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STORY-TELLING 

FOR 
UPPER GRADE TEACHERS 

CROSS AND STATLER 



STOEY-TELLING 

FOR 

UPPER GRADE TEACHERS 



BY 

ALLEN CROSS 

Professor of Literature and Engush 

State Teachers' College, Greeley, Colorado 



NELLIE MARGARET STATLER 

Training Teacher and Instructor in Story-Telling 

State Teachers' College, Greeley, Colorado 




CHICAGO NEW YORK 

ROW, PETERSON AND COMPANY 



,C8 



Copyright, 1918 
ROW, PETERSON 
AND COMPANY 



fl-'^^ 



m 18 1918 



©CI,A492019 



PREFACE 

This book has been planned with a view to extending 
the usefulness of the oral story to groups of young people 
somewhat older than those usually appealed to by the 
collections which have been issued by earlier authors and 
compilers. We are convinced also that there are many 
teachers who need to be instructed in matters pertaining 
to : How to tell stories, What stories to tell, Stories appro- 
priate to certain seasons and occasions, Stories suitable to 
Boy Scouts and Campfire Girls, etc. In short, there seemed 
to be still ground enough left untouched by the books 
already in the field to warrant the making of another 
volume. The book will be found to contain a few well 
known stories, but in the main the illustrative material 
and stories for telling will be welcomed because they are 
fresh and unhackneyed. 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

In addition to a few friends who have given us valuable 
suggestions and advice, and whom we have thanked per- 
sonally, we feel under deep obligation to the authors and 
publishers whose generosity has made it possible for us 
to include in this volume a wealth of stories suitable for 
oral telling. We wish to express our gratitude for these 
courtesies to the following: Walter Taylor Field, Ida M. 
Moffat, Amy Steedman, Catherine Turner Bryce, Lyon 
Sharman, Richard T. Wyche, Walter A. Dyer, and Henry 
van Dyke; and to the Storytellers' Magazine, Rand, 
McNally & Co., Henry Holt & Co., P. F. Collier and Son, 
Perry Mason & Co., Paul Elder and Company, Houghton 
Mifflin Co., Milton Bradley & Co., and Charles Scribners' 
Sons. 

A. C. 
Gkeeley, Colorado, N M S 

September, 1917. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 
Chapter I 

PAGE 

The Limits of Interest in Story-Telling 11 

Stories for Little Children 11 

Stories for Intermediate and Upper Grades. 12 

The Appeal of the Oral Story 13 

Stories with an Ethical Purpose 14 

History in Oral Story 16 

Stories to Illustrate Truths of Science 16 

Humorous Stories for Entertainment Alone 17 

Creating an Interest in an Author 18 

Stories and Seasonal Atmosphere 18 

Stories Outside the Schoolroom 19 

The Story-Hour at Home 20 

Stories : 

The Jew's Tale, by Walter Taylor Field 20 

The Legend of the Yucca Plant, by Ida M. Moffat 25 

The Monk and the Bird, by Horace Scudder 28 

Chapter II 

How TO Arrange and Tell Stories 33 

Reading, Reciting, and Telling 33 

Experimentation with Incidents 36 

A Substitute for Memorizing 36 

Tell Only Stories You Like. 38 

Imagined Pictures 39 

The Story Plan, or Plot 40 

Simplicity 41 

Preparation 41 

Telling the Story 43 

Stories : 

The Bear as a Humorist, by Joaquin Miller 44 

Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, Adapted 46 

7 



g TABLE OF CONTENTS 

Chapter III page 

Types of Stories 51 

Fairy Tales 51 

Myths and Folk Lore 54 

Legends 57 

Historical Tales 59 

Ethical Stories 61 

Biblical Stories 63 

Stories : 

Isaac, the Child of Promise, retold by Nellie Margaret 

Statler 69 

Isaac and Rebekah, retold by N. M. S 71 

Isaac and His Sons, retold by N. M. S 73 

Deborah, retold by N. M. S 76 

Ruth and Naomi, retold by N. M. S 79 

David and Jonathan, retold by N. M. S 82 

Queen Esther and the Feast of Purim, retold by N. M. S . . 85 

The Prodigal Son, retold by N. M. S 90 

Helping the Master, by Eveleen Harrison 94 

Saul's Journey to Damascus, retold by N. M. S 98 

Chapter IV 

Uses of the Story in the Schoolroom 102 

Fostering a Love for Good Literature 102 

Cultivating an Acquaintance with Good Writers 102 

Dramatization 109 

Stories : 

A Trip Into the Rocky Mountains, by Laurence Clark 103 

The Landing of the Pilgrims (A Dramatization) by Wilma 

Hamilton 110 

Saint Nicholas, by Amy Steedman 116 

Saint Nicholas and The Nobleman's Son, by Amy Steedman 122 

The Emperor's Vision, by Selma Lagerlof 128 

Blind Bartimaeus, by Catherine Turner Bryce 137 

The Worker in Sandal-Wood, by Marjorie L. C. Pickthall. . 145 

Madam Cecropia, by Allen Cross 153 

The Home-Made Flag, by Lyon Sharman 157 

How June Pound Massa Linkum, by Elizabeth Stuart 

Phelps 163 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 9 

Chapter V 

PAGE 

Stories and Picture Study ' 174 

The Life of Christ in Pictures 175 

The Master Artists 175 

Methods of Using Pictures in the Schoolroom 182 

A Short List of Masterpieces of Art 185 

Stories : 

Christ in the Temple, retold by N. M. S 186 

The Story of Saint Christopher, as told by Richard Thomas 

Wyche 188 

Chapter VI 

Stories for Boy Scouts and Campfire Girls 195 

The Scout Law, with a list of titles of stories to illustrate 

the points of the Law 196 

The Law of Campfire, with a list of titles of stories to 

illustrate the points of the Law 198 

The Holy Grail: An Interpretation of the Abbey Pictures. 201 

Stories : 

Where Love Is, There God Is Also, by Lyof N. Tolstoy 207 

Old Pipes and the Dryad, by Frank R. Stocton 219 

The Story of a Forest Fire, by Raymond S. Spears 233 

Merry Twinkle and the Dwarf, by Allen Cross 239 

The Vision of Anton, the Clock-Maker, by Walter A. Dyer. 249 

The Closing Door, by Maud Lindsay , 255 

The Selfish Giant, by Oscar Wilde 258 

Books on Story-Telling, and Collections of Stories for 

Telling — A Bibliography 265 

A List of Stories for Telling, Arranged by School Grades 270 



CHAPTER I 
THE LIMITS OF INTEREST IN ORAL STORIES 

Stories for Httle children. Oral story-telling is nat- 
urally associated with little children. "When you think of 
the story hour, your mind pictures a mother telling 
a story to a four-year-old child, a big brother or big 
sister telling stories between the evening meal and bed- 
time to brothers or sisters not yet old enough to be going 
to school. Or if one speaks of story-telling in the schools, 
the image called up is of a teacher entertaining a kinder- 
garten or primary school with stories of " The Ginger- 
bread Boy " or " The Old Woman and Her Pig." The 
oral story has, indeed, a very large place in the education 
of little children. Without doubt it furnishes the chief 
means of using the imaginations of children in the direc- 
tion of a wider mental horizon, and fills a larger place 
in the day's program in the primary school than in any 
other year or grade in a child's school life. 

Mothers and primary teachers have never needed to 
be shown that stories provide a very attractive means for 
educating little children; at least, we may assume that 
this has been recognized from the time when it became a 
teaching virtue to have a child happy while he was being 
educated. Perhaps,, if one should look into the matter 

11 



12 STOEY-TELLING 

very closely, one might find tlie skeleton of a story 
(rather dry bones, however) even in the New England 
Primer. 

Zaccheus he 

Did climb a tree 

His Lord to see, 

may not be a very engrossing narrative, but it is nar- 
rative of a kind and goes to prove that in seeking to 
interest children while teaching them, the makers of that 
now funny little old book were almost human in their 
instincts about education, although admittedly not so in 
their convictions. 

But oral story-telling is not for the primary child 
alone. The use of stories for little children is in such 
general practice, and the collections of good stories for 
the very young are so numerous and so well selected and 
edited that it seems unnecessary here to elaborate upon 
the technic of story-telling in elementary grades or upon 
the value of different types of stories for these groups of 
children. 

Stories for intermediate and upper grades. Teachers 
have assumed that the oral story was to be used only to 
supply the wants of children too young to read for them- 
selves. The theory has been that it was in every way 
desirable for a boy or girl to get his stories for himself 
as soon as he had sufficiently mastered the art of reading 
to pick his painful way through the stories in his reader. 
This is excellent in both theory and practice, but it is 



LIMITS OF INTEEEST IN ORAL STUDIES 13 

not all that is desirable. Most progressive teachers now 
agree that there is a place for the oral story in any 
school grade, no matter how proficient the pupils may be 
in silent or oral reading. What can the related story 
give to the pupil beyond what he gets out of it through 
the process of reading? What kinds of stories appeal to 
children in the intermediate and upper grades? What 
are the sources of interest which one may depend upon 
in selecting stories for the advanced pupils in the elemen- 
tary schools? 

Anyone who has made the trial knows that the told 
story will interest older children just as much as it does 
the primary group. The story-teller may find when she 
makes her first effort to initiate an eighth grade into the 
wonderland of the oral story that the pupils themselves 
have a tendency to relegate stories to the lower grades, 
and to view all the imagination of the story world with 
scepticism, either suppressed or openly exhibited. There 
is no reason, however, why this attitude should persist. 
If suitable stories are selected and then told effectively, 
these children soon become as interested and attentive as 
any group of little children who are listening for the first 
time to the story of Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty. 

The appeal of the oraJ story. The most obvious 
gain of the oral story over the story read by the pupil 
is the release of the recipient of the story from the 
mechanical effort necessary to get the story for himself. 
Not having to do the reading, he can focus his attention 
upon the content of the story alone. Consequently, the 



14 STOEY-TELLING 

story appears to him to be a more vital thing. The 
teacher's voice gives vitality to the words. The story 
grows in dramatic and emotional appeal. Last of all, 
and in this case the last point seems the most important, 
the teller of the story seems to be creating the story as 
she speaks. She has not memorized what she tells. She 
attempts to reproduce the incidents of the original writ- 
ten story and to preserve its emotional qualities, its tone 
and spirit, but the words are her own except where she 
unconsciously falls into the diction of the author. Thus 
she appears to be not a reader, second-hand, of what 
someone else has written, but a creator — " a maker of 
literature." In these ways, then, the told story gains 
interest through the ease with which it comes to the 
hearer, the emotional heightening it acquires on account 
of the dramatic handling, and the vitality which the appar- 
ent spontaneous invention of the teller gives to it. 

Stories with an ethical purpose. Stories which set 
forth the triumph of Truth and Justice appeal to children 
of the upper school grades. Consider such a story as ' ' The 
Prominent Man," one of the stories from Laura E. Rich- 
ards' Fables for Old and Young called " The Golden Win- 
dows." The ethical element set forth in this story will 
make just as strong an impression upon the mind of an 
eighth grade boy as the narrative effect of ' ' The Pig 
Brother " in the same collection makes upon the younger 
child. 

The youth has had an experience with the world large 
enough to convince him that there are two distinct powers 



LIMITS OF INTEEEST IN OEAL STUDIES 15 

or instincts within him, each contending for the mastery 
of his life — one, the spirit of good, and the other, of evil. 
And so, while the older child knows as a matter of fact 
that a golden statue cannot speak, he is capable of realiz- 
ing the larger truth in such a story as Oscar Wilde's " The 
Happy Prince." He understands the experience of the 
statue first as a happy youth bounded by garden walls, 
and then as a statue on the public square, where all the 
misery of the world passes before his sapphire eyes. The 
little sparrow that acts as the messenger gives the listener 
a pleasing picture of the Nile, and his unselfish devotion, 
which finally causes his death, makes possible the fulfill- 
ment of the desires of the golden statue. The bird itself 
portrays a type of unselfishness and cheerfulness. Another 
story with a similar theme is Tolstoy's " "Where Love Is, 
There God Is Also." In this case the purpose of the story 
is to show that the best way to serve God is to serve man- 
kind. The scene is quite different from that of " The 
Happy Prince." While the one is idealistic and imag- 
inative in its setting, and the other is modern and realistic, 
both will be found interesting to adolescent boys and girls. 
Now and then you may find a very matter-of-fact youth 
who will want to know whether Martin really heard the 
voice of the Master. Answer him with another question. 
Have you never heard a voice as of a power above and 
beyond you, approving you for some good action you 
have done? 

The most common means used by Jesus to carry an 
ethical, moral, or social lesson was the parable. This form 



16 STOEY-TELLING 



of story is still very effective with both children and adults 
for this purpose. How easy it is to hold in mind a fact 
or a lesson if it has been presented to us at first in an 
interesting setting. Not only do lessons which come in the 
form of a story or parable make a pleasing appeal, but the 
impression is deeper and, therefore, more permanent than 
if the precept had come in the didactic form. 

History in oral story. The possibility of emphasizing 
the facts of history by means of story-telling should not 
be forgotten. Perhaps the upper grade student is work- 
ing through European geography. The geography and 
history of the Rhine provinces are inseparable. Can you 
think of any better device for fixing the conclusion of the 
Franco-Prussian War and the transfer of Alsace-Lorraine 
from France to the German Empire than Sara Cone Bry- 
ant's adaptation of Alphonse Daudet's '' The Last Les- 
son? " The child who knows that story can never forget 
that Alsace-Lorraine, has been German, politically, since 
1870, but that the people are French. And if the story- 
teller is not afraid to teach an obvious political fact, here 
is an opportunity to teach the very foundation of patriot- 
ism. Unless a people consent to be governed, an imposed 
sovereignty is profitless to the governing power. It is 
futile, for it is without love or inward loyalty. 

Stories to illustrate truths of science. Isaac New- 
ton and the Apple, James Watt and the Giant under the 
Teakettle Lid, and similar stories will suggest to the re- 
sourceful teacher the possibilities of oral stories in the 



1 

t I 



LIMITS OF INTEEEST IN OEAL STUDIES 17 

teaching of scientific f^cts to intermediate and upper grade 
children. 

Humoraus stories for entertainment alone. Children 
in the primary grades do not see the point in a joke unless 
it is an obvious one ; but in the higher grades stories whose 
main interest is humor may be used frequently for the 
mere fun of it. If a teacher has a sense of humor and 
can tell a story with a humorous turn, her popularity and 
ultimate success with her pupils is assured. What child has 
not laughed over the adventures of Brer Rabbit and the 
other creatures, as these have been detailed to the little 
boy by wise old Uncle Remus ? Humor, like beauty, is its 
own excuse for being, but stories like these have a meaning, 
a philosophy, in addition to a wholesome humor, and this 
makes the stories so much the more worth while. When 
Brer Rabbit is down in the well fishin' for suckers, in 
more senses than one, he passes the fox on his way up out 
of the well and calls out to him, 

" Good bye, Brer Fox, take keer yo cloze. 
This is the way the ol' worl' goes: 
Some goes up and some goes down, 
You'll git ter de bottom all safe en soun'." 

Children will laugh over the rhyme, and it may well be 
also that they see the truth of Brer Rabbit's philosophy. 
Selections from Mark Twain's " Tom Sawyer " and 
" Huckleberry Finn " may be used also as an addition to 



18 STOEY-TELLING 

the group of humorous stories. Nor are Mark Twain and 
Joel Chandler Harris the only possibilities. Piggy Pen- 
nington's escapades in love and war and the pursuits of 
peace are an unfailing source of humor that appeals to 
older boys and girls as well as to adults. Stories of this 
kind are unusually good because the fun is shared by both 
the hearers and the teller as she adds her personality and 
her interpretation to the printed story in the telling. 

Creating an interest in an author. A wisely chosen 
selection from the work of a standard author, such as 
Dickens, or Thackeray, or Stevenson, may be an incentive 
to the student to become interested in other work of the 
author. There are many incidents in " David Copper- 
field," for example, which might be used as story units. 
Recently a seventh grade boy, after having heard a story 
from " Treasure Island," took the novel and read it two 
or three times. He then dramatized it, choosing the char- 
acters, planning the scenes, and writing the dialog. Finally 
he induced a group of his schoolmates to take the parts. 
All this was done outside of school, but an appreciative 
teacher learned of it and had him give a public perform- 
ance before the school. This was a crude play, no doubt, 
but it served to interest all who took part in it in Robert 
Louis Stevenson, And all this started with an oral story 
from " Treasure Island." Under judicious direction from 
a wise teacher, what better exercise in motivated oral and 
written composition would you have? 

Stories and seasonal atmosphere. When the Thanks- 
giving, Christmas, or Easter time comes, you are not con- 



LIMITS OF INTEEEST IN ORAL STUDIES 19 

tent to pass them by with a program on a set day. Such 
an exercise is detached. It cannot mean much. The tone 
of the season can be induced by the telling of Christmas 
stories for several days before the actual celebration of the 
day. And so it is with the other days. You may com- 
bine your stories, your music, and your pictures in such a 
way as to create an atmosphere in keeping with the par- 
ticular holiday. Is it the Easter season? Van Dyke's " A 
Handful of Clay " gives, without sermonizing, the hope of 
a transmutation into a continued life. A resourceful 
teacher who has any command at all of the literature suited 
to her children will not be at a loss to find stories appro- 
priate to any of the significant days of the school year, 
patriotic, historic, or religious. 

Stories outside the schoolroom. The school is not the 
only place suited to story-telling. Wherever young people 
come together, either for amusement or for some more 
serious purpose, stories may be told. Story hours are 
growing in popularity in city libraries, in playground activ- 
ities, in Boy Scout and Campfire Girls' organizations. Even 
the department stores find it commercially advantageous to 
entertain the children while the mothers are shopping. 
The psychology of business seems to say that a contented 
mother who knows that her children are being happily 
entertained carries a purse with a looser string than one 
who goes about with three or four fretful children in her 
wake. In Sunday schools more and more emphasis is 
being placed upon oral narrative as a means of teaching 
the Bible lesson. The spirit of the narrative is considered 



20 STORY-TELLING- 

more important than the word ; and so the stories are pre- 
sented in the language of the child, the beauty of the 
scriptural language being preserved wherever possible. 

The story-hour at home. The ideal place for story- 
telling is the home ; and fortunate indeed are the children 
who have heard the classic fairy tales, the wonder stories, 
Bible stories, and all other tales dear to the child heart, 
told around their own firesides by their fathers and mothers. 
But there are too many homes, it must be regretfully 
admitted, where there is no time, no knowledge, no incli- 
nation to make possible the intimate children's hour; and 
so it is necessary still to make the school the chief agent 
for entertaining and instructing children through the 
medium of the oral narrative. 

The Jew 's Tale * 

When Abdallah, the Bedouin youth, was a baby, as he 
lay cradled with the son of the Egyptian merchant, a 
dervish was called in to read the horoscope of the Egyp- 
tian's son. As the astrologer was passing out, Halima, 
Abdallah 's mother, asked concerning the future of her son 
and expressed the wish that he might be honest and happy 
here on earth. 

' ' Honest and happy ! ' ' said the dervish with a strange 
laugh ; ' ' and you ask this of me ! Good woman, it is the 
four-leaved clover that you want. Since Adam's time no 

* Reprinted from " The Quest of the Four Leaf Clover," by 
permission Walter Taylor Field and Ginn & Co. Copyrighted. 



LIMITS OF INTEEEST IN OEAL STUDIES 21 

one has seen it. Let your son seek for it, and when he 
shall have found it, you may be sure he will lack nothing. ' ' 

When Abdallah grew older, his mother told him of the 
strange saying of the dervish. Abdallah pondered upon 
the mystery of the four-leaved clover, and every stranger 
who came upon his path he questioned concerning the 
meaning. Hafiz, the uncle of the lad, saw only the hand 
of the Evil One in the words of the dervish and urged his 
nephew to think no more upon it. But Abdallah was not 
to be satisfied in this manner. 

One day an old Jew entered the door asking for food. 
After he had been fed and cared for, Abdallah listened 
with interest as the old man told of his travels, for he had 
been everywhere. Abdallah resolved to ask him the ques- 
tion which was always uppermost in his mind. 

' ' My father, ' ' asked the young Bedouin, trembling with 
eagerness, " has your learning taught you of a mystic leaf 
which gives to him who possesses it wisdom and happi- 
ness? " 

'' Surely," replied the old man, smiling; "it is men- 
tioned in the Zohar, among other marvels." 

" It is the four-leaved clover, is it not? " 

" Perhaps," said the Jew, with a frown; " but where 
did you hear this name ? ' ' 

When Abdallah had finished his story, the old man looked 
at him tenderly. " My son," said he, " the poor often 
repay hospitality better than the rich, for it is God who 
pays their debts. The secret which you seek I discovered 
long ago in Persia. If God has guided my steps to your 



22 STOEY-TELLING 

tent, it is doubtless because he has chosen me to bring you 
the truth. Listen, then, and write on your heart what I 
shall tell you." 

Hafiz and Abdallah drew close to the old man, who, in a 
low, mysterious voice told them this legend: 

'' When our first parent, Adam, was driven out of par- 
adise, he was allowed to take with him into the world the 
date palm for his food, and the camel, made of the same 
clay as himself, for his helper. ' ' 

" That is true," said Hafiz. " The camel is made for 
us, and we for the camel." 

" When the flaming sword drove before it those first 
sinful ones, Adam cast backward a look of despair at the 
home which he was forced to leave, and as a parting sou- 
venir he plucked a branch of myrtle. The angel permitted 
it, for he remembered that at God's command he had once 
done homage to the man whom, now, he pitied. ' ' 

" True," said Hafiz, " it was the same branch that 
Hobab gave, long afterwards, to his son-in-law, Moses; it 
was the staff with which the prophet kept his fiocks, and 
with which, later, he performed the miracles in Egypt." 

" Eve, also," said the old man, " paused, in tears, before 
those flowers and trees which she should never see again, 
but the sword was pitiless, and she was obliged to flee. 
Just as she went out, she snatched one of the blessed herbs 
that grew in paradise. The angel shut his eyes, as he 
had done with Adam. What was this herb? Eve did 
not know. She had seized it in her flight and had it shut 
tight in her hand. She would have been wise to have 



LIMITS OF INTEEEST IN OEAL STUDIES 23 

kept it so, but her curiosity was stronger than her pru- 
dence, and as she crossed the threshold she opened her 
hand to look at it. The plant was the brightest of all the 
herbs of paradise. It was the four-leaved clover. One of 
the leaves was red, like copper; another was white, like 
silver ; a third was yellow as gold ; while the fourth glit- 
tered like a diamond. Eve stopped to look at her treas- 
ure, but the flame touched her. She started; her hand 
trembled ; the diamond leaf fell inside the gate ; and the 
other three, driven by the wind, were scattered abroad, 
"Where they fell God only knows ! ' ' 

' ' What ! ' ' cried Abdallah, ' ' have they never since been 
seen? " 

" I think not," said the Jew, " and it is possible that 
this story is only an allegory which covers some deep 
truth." 

" No, no," said Abdallah, ''that cannot be. Try to 
remember. Perhaps you can find some new clew. I must 
have this plant, cost what it may. I long for it, and with 
God's help I will have it." 

The old man hid his face in his hands and for a long 
time remained wrapped in thought. Abdallah scarcely 
dared to breathe, for fear of disturbing him. 

" I have thought long and closely," he said at length, 
" and I can remember nothing more. Perhaps my book 
will tell me something." So saying, he drew from his 
girdle a yellow manuscript with a greasy black cover. He 
turned the leaves slowly, one by one, examining a number 
of geometric figures, squares, concentric circles, numerals 



24 STORY-TELLINa 

and alphabets, some of which began with aleph, while 
others began with tau. " There is," said he, "a bit of 
verse which is often repeated in the Sudan. It may inter- 
est you, but I do not know whether or not it refers to the 
legend I have told you: 

*' There's an herb of mystic power; 

But 'tis not to mortals given 
To behold it, leaf or flower. 

Seek it not ; it blooms in heaven ! 

Patience ! patience ! " he added, noticing Abdallah 's excite- 
ment. " The words have more than one meaning. The 
ignorant seek for truth upon the surface, but the wise 
follow it to the depths and capture it, thanks to. God ! Do 
you not know what one of our great teachers, the rabbi 
Halaphta, son of Dozzi, says? 

" Seek not for heaven in yon far azure skies 
Where pales the moon, where glows the burning sun, 
For heaven is in the reach of every one, 

And a pure heart, my child, is paradise. 

Yes," he continued, lifting his voice, "I see a light. If 
God brought us together, it was doubtless because he 
wished to grant your wish, but beware of anticipating his 
will by vain curiosity. Obey his law ; follow his command- 
ments; make a heaven in your soul; perhaps some day 
when you least expect it you will find the prize which you 



LIMITS OF INTEEEST IN OEAL STUDIES 25 

desire. This, at least, is all that my knowledge can tell 
you." 

' ' Well said, old man ! ' ' cried Hafiz. Then putting his 
hand on Abdallah 's shoulder, he added : ' ' God is the mas- 
ter of the hour. Be obedient and wait." 

How Abdallah toiled unceasing, of the wonderful gifts 
which he gave to his people, and how he found first the 
copper leaf, then the silver leaf, the gold leaf, and finally 
how, at the very threshhold of Paradise, the diamond leaf 
became his own, is another story. 

— Walter Taylor Field. 

The Legend of the Yucca Plant * 

A dusky Indian maiden named Ocalenta dwelt on the 
treeless plains of the far West with her father, Owinkapum, 
who was the chief of the tribe and the most important man 
of the village. Ocalenta grew into a slender, graceful girl, 
roaming over the prairies and basking in the sunlit air 
until she grew to womanhood. 

In an Indian village a few miles away lived another 
chief, Wampumita, and his son, Unakola, who were very 
hostile to her father's tribe. 

The maiden and the youth met, and then she knew a 
woman's grief, for she loved Unakola. 

She often stole forth at eventide with noiseless footsteps 
to meet her bronzed brave. Her father followed her path 
one gloomy evening, and when he found her with the 

* Reprinted from the Storytellers' Magazine, July, 1914, 



26 STORY-TELLINa 

son of his enemy, his heart was fierce with rage. He made 
her go home, and thus he spoke : 

' ' Thou shalt never go to the wigwam of thy lover as his 
wife, I would sooner send the poisoned arrow to thy heart. 
Yet, I will give you one condition difficult to accomplish. It 
is this. You may dwell within his lodge door as his wife if 
you will weave aid shape and fashion from the skin of 
wolf and bear twenty robes, trimmed with beads of many 
colors, no leather thongs, barbed hedgehog quills, or ber- 
ries to be entwined. These must be done ere seven moons 
gleam on my wigwam. ' ' 

Poor Ocalenta was defiant at her doom, and very much 
disheartened. She wandered forth in the gloom of even- 
ings to ponder on what she should do. She knelt down in 
the twilight among the yuccas to tell them her sorrow. She 
heard a voice from the " happy hunting ground " say: 
" Courage, courage, Ocalenta, for in seven moons thou 
may est make from bear skins, twenty robes, and weave the 
beads of many colors, and plait and twist and shape them 
by plucking from the yucca when night is darkest, the 
silver thread and sharp needles, working hardest after the 
night is sped." 

She shed many bitter tears as she plied her art and 
wrought with all her might from the early morning until 
dewy evening to accomplish her task. Night after night 
found her at the yucca patch plucking the needles and 
stripping the threads from the plants, and day by day she 
wove and fashioned the garments until the seven moons 



LIMITS OF INTEEEST IN OEAL STUDIES 27 

had speedily passed away. When she had completed her 
work she laid the garments at the chief 's door. 

With light heart and happy footsteps she fled to the 
yucca plants and thus she spoke: " Lo, they are finished, 
and before the braves assemble 'round the council fira at 
sunrise, I come to give the yucca my thanks for the needles 
and the thread. ' ' 

Amid the sword-like leafage were spikes of lily-shaped 
blossoms, creamy and waxen, drooping downward from 
the stalk. These were the maiden's tears that she had shed 
upon the plants in the dreary hours of the night, now 
blossoming into these beautiful flowers. 

After her blessings upon the yucca she had hastened with 
airy footsteps to spread before the astonished council the 
robes of skin and beads. Entangled in each stitch was a 
prayer to the Great Spirit that these would appease the 
father's wrath. 

When Chief Owinkapum found the robes at his lodge 
door he plotted his revenge, for he sent a messenger to 
Unakola's tent and asked for a hearing. He came, unsus- 
pecting of evil, and was stricken down by the chief 's orders, 
within the tent door. The chief then went to the council 
as though nothing unusual had occurred. The other braves 
knew nothing of the tragedy and were surprised to see the 
twenty beautiful robes spread out before them by the 
Indian princess. 

Ocalenta left them with a gay heart and stepped into 
the tent of her father. Then her cheek blanched and her 



28 STOEY-TELLINa 

heart-throbs stifled her speech for a brief time, when she 
saw Unakola lying dead upon the floor, stricken by her 
father's orders. When her speech returned, she uttered the 
cry, " Unakola! Unakola! " and fled from the lodge into 
the wilderness where no human footsteps might tread. 
All reason was gone with the wild frenzy that checked feel- 
ing, hearing, and sight, so great was her grief. She threw 
herself upon the burning sands to perish. 

They missed her and started out to search for her. Days 
passed, but finally they found her, lifeless and wan upon 
the sands of the plain. 

Her father's heart was melted, and he had her brought 
back to his tent, and from his wigwam they carried her 
body and laid it beneath the yucca blossoms in the early, 
dewy morn. 

All over the plains of our vast West are the " needle 
and thread " plant of the Indian girl, with their creamy 
tear blossoms. 

—Ida M. Moffat. 

The Monk and the Bird * 

There was an old monk who had led a holy life, doing 
good all his days. And one reason why he had done good 
was because he lived much with God. 

Early in the morning, before others had risen, he was 
on his knees praying to the Father of all, giving thanks 

* Used by permission of, and by special arrangement with, 
Houghton Miffin Company. Copyright, 1899, 



LIMITS OF INTEREST IN ORAL STUDIES 29 

for all his mercies, and asking for grace to lead a holy life 
that day. And late at night, when others slept, he lingered 
long on his knees, talking with God as with his dearest 
friend. 

Not only did this monk pray in the chapel and by the 
side of his narrow bed, but as he walked about doing good 
deeds his lips moved, and he scarcely saw anyone else, for 
he was praying in 'silence. 

So when he was an old, old man, he was one day in the 
garden of the monastery. He was too old and feeble now 
to go away amongst the poor and sick; but the poor and 
sick, young and old, were glad they could come to him 
and receive his blessing. 

It was a lovely morning hour in early summer, and the 
garden was sweet with the odor of roses. The old monk 
had been helped out to a garden bench, and there left. 
When he was alone he sank upon his knees by the bench, 
and lifted his peaceful soul in prayer and praise. 

As he prayed, there came a sweet, pure note to his ear. 
He knew it for the voice of one of God 's happy creatures •, 
and as he prayed, he listened with a smile to this bird 
singing in one of the rose trees in the garden. 

The note so filled his soul that he rose from his knees 
to listen to the song. He rested his hands on his stout 
stick and listened. Then he drew near the rose tree from 
which the song came. 

As he drew near, the little bird continued singing and 
then fled to a grove farther away, and again began calling 
with its sweet note. The old monk, forgetting everything 



30 STOEY-TELLING 

else, eagerly pressed forward. It was as if he heard 
some bird of God. 

Oh, rapture! he neared the bird again and heard the 
pure notes sounding clearer and clearer. Once more the 
bird filled his soul, and he listened, listened. Then away 
flew the bird, and led him by its song to a farther grove. 
Still the old man pressed on. 

Thus hour by hour the heavenly bird sang, and hour by 
hour the old monk listened intent. But at last the bird's 
song grew gentler, until it ceased altogether. The day 
was nearing its close. 

Then the happy old man set his face westward, and made 
his way back toward the monastery, carrying the mem- 
ory of the song which mingled with his prayer, so that he 
scarce knew whether he was praying or listening to the 
music. 

It was nightfall when he found himself once again within 
the garden ; in tJie evening light he looked about him at 
the old scene. There was the convent, there was the gar- 
den, and yet nothing looked quite as when he had left the 
place. 

As he stood wondering, a brother monk drew near. He 
wore the familiar dress; yet his face seemed strange. 
Well as our old monk knew all the brethren, this newcomer 
he could not remember ever to have seen. But he must 
needs speak to him, and he asked : ' ' What has happened ? 
Why is it that everything looks so changed since morning ? 
What has taken place? But perhaps you have only just 
come. Is Brother Andrew within? " 



LIMITS OF INTEEEST IN OEAL STUDIES 31 

The monk looked at him as he spoke, and he wondered 
as he looked. " Why," said he, " there has been no 
change here to-day, no, nor for many years. I have myself 
been here ten years come Michaelmas. There is no Brother 
Andrew amongst us. But thou? pray, who art thou? and 
whence camest thou? What is thy name, good brother? " 

The old monk, much wondering, told his name, and said 
further: " It was only this morning, early this morning, 
that I left the garden, for I heard the song of a bird; 
and it was like a song let down from heaven to draw 
me up." 

Now when the younger monk heard the name, he fell on 
his knees, and took the robe of the other in his hand, and 
bowed over it. Then he told him how it was written in 
the books of the monastery that a holy man of that name 
had strangely disappeared out of their sight two hundred 
years ago. 

*' And it was written," he said, " that like as the Lord 
God buried his servant Moses, and no man knew where he 
was buried, so did he hide from our sight this holy brother. ' ' 

At that, a smile spread over the face of the old monk, 
and he lifted up his voice and said, " My hour of death is 
come. Blessed be the name of the Lord for all his mercies 
to me," and so he breathed out his spirit. 

Then all the monks in the monastery were called to wit- 
ness this strange sight ; and the young monk who had held 
converse with the old man turned to his brethren and said : 

" God be merciful to me a sinner! When this old man 
drew near to me, I was thinking to myself, how can I bear 



32 STOEY-TELLING 

the thought of an eternity of happiness ? Shall I not weary 
of endless peace? but lo! our brother heard a bird of 
God for but a single day, as he thought, and it was two 
hundred years. Surely a thousand years in his sight are 
but as yesterday, and as a day that is past." 

— Horace Scudder. 



CHAPTER II 

HOW TO AERANGE AND TELL STORIES 

Reading-, reciting-, or telling. A story effectively told 
has a number of advantages over a story read or even 
recited from memory. The oral story becomes free from 
the bondage of print. No matter how closely the story- 
teller follows the arrangement of the original author or 
with what fidelity he reproduces the spirit of the original, 
he is, so far as appearances go, the creator of the tale. A 
reader is obliged to keep his eyes upon the text for a 
large enough part of the time to dispel all the illusion of 
spontaneous creation. The nearest thing to the told story 
in its effects is the memorized tale. 

One who reads or recites becomes the mouthpiece of the 
writer. Her business is to " get across " to her audience 
the impressions which the writer has put upon paper. 
The oral teller uses what is written merely as the founda- 
tion for her narrative. In conjunction with the author 
she, too, is a creator. The children, with eyes upon the 
teller's face, observe the changes of expression as the nar- 
rative advances. They see the light in her eyes. She 
knows already what the end will be. They believe that it 
will have an element of the unexpected in it, and that, 

33 



34 STOEY-TELLING 

whatever it is, it will be interesting to them. Their expe- 
rience with her gives them that confidence. They have 
learned to watch the changes in her face and the look in 
her eyes, and to read these known signs and predict the 
outcome. 

Then, although they know that in most cases what she 
is telling has its foundation in some printed book, they soon 
forget the book and accept unconsciously the teller as 
the creator of the story. Perhaps these pictures which 
she is giving them are purely imaginative; or more fas- 
cinating still, it may be that the stories are true — a part 
of the teacher's personal experiences. This attitude toward 
the story-teller is possible at the height of interest in skill- 
ful work. It is made possible to the story-teller by living 
with the story till it is her very own. 

The told story is, then, much more intimate than the 
narrative read or recited. The child comes to feel that 
there is no barrier between him and the teller — that there 
is no book between the narrator and the hearer. There is 
none of the slavery to word or phrase which so often mars 
recited tales. A word is dropped, or the exact phrasing 
is forgotten, and the narrator stumbles and halts in confu- 
sion. The glamor vanishes, and the effect of the story upon 
the imagination of the children fades away. The story- 
teller, at ease in her situation, acquainted with the plot 
and characters, is free from the letter, the word, the 
phrase, and so need never be embarrassed by the loss of a 
single word. She can substitute other ways of saying the 
thing, and so keep up the illusion of her narration and 



HOW TO AERANGE AND TELL STORIES 35 

indulge without a break the full and steady stream of the 
imagination of her pupils. 

If it were not for one or two important considera- 
tions, perhaps the most effective means of getting, a 
story from the author to the hearer would be by mem- 
orizing and reciting. The lesser of thece considerations 
is that the recitation is more or less mechanical unless 
the reader is very much more skillful in dramatic art 
than most teachers are. The more important fact is 
that only a very limited number of stories can be mem- 
orized. This needs no elaboration. Everyone who has 
tried it knows what a labor it is to memorize word for 
word a long story, be it ever so interesting or dramatic. 
Teachers do not have time for much work of that kind. A 
successful teacher who makes use of story-telling in pro- 
portion to its importance must have a stock of stories run- 
ning up to a hundred or more. If she depended upon 
memorizing stories, she could not hope to hold in a usable 
form more than ten or a dozen stories. When one has once 
acquired the technic of story-telling, it is no great task to 
add a new story to the stock already on hand. The teller 
does not need to carry in memory all the details of all 
the stories in her repertory ; for it is easy, once a story is 
m-astered, to freshen it up for telling. But the memorized 
story must be kept, word for word, or its effect is lost. 

In this connection two important admissions need to be 
made. The first is that there are stories of a certain type 
that lose through narration. These are stories which pro- 
duce their emotional impressions pretty largely through 



36 STOEY-TELLINa 

the choice of words, or peculiarities of dialect, or style in 
the literary sense. One can easily preserve every incident 
in the plot and yet fail to transmit the spirit of the piece, 
because the spirit resided in the very phrases themselves. 
This is true of such a story as Ruth Sawyer's, " The Prin- 
cess and the Vagabone " and some of the Uncle Remus 
stories. The second admission is that the mastering of the 
technic of story-telling is not simple or easy. Learning 
the art once is learning it for all time for a particular type 
of story — and there are only a few types, differing from 
each other, not in very large ways, but only in smaller 
details. Of course, the process of memorizing is the same 
for every story. By practice one gains a little in facility, 
but his task differs but little from story to story, if one 
must learn word by word. 

Experimentation with incidents. The story read or 
memorized is a fixed quantity. The told story is plastic. 
If the teller finds that a section of a written narrative is 
too long to be interesting, she can condense that part; or 
if it is not essential to the plot, she can omit it altogether. 
She can amplify other incidents or enlarge upon the char- 
acters or the dialog or any phase of the tale her experi- 
ence tells her will be made more absorbing in its interest 
by so doing. 

A substitute for memorizing. Instead of memorizing 
a whole story word for word, you should come to know it 
so well that the spirit of it is yours. Become so imbued 
with the spirit that it comes to be a part of yourself — 
something that no one can take from you — something that 



HOW TO AEEANGE AND TELL STOEIES 37 

will not evaporate and vanish away with the loss of a 
mere word. This sort of memorizing is more a familiar- 
izing of oneself with the author's style than actually reduc- 
ing any of the story elements to memory. By reading the 
story over and over you unconsciously attract to yourself 
a diction, a phrasing that belongs to the author and the 
piece, that just naturally fits into the situations contained 
in the story. 

It must be admitted, however, that one cannot neglect 
diction and word grouping. If an author has style, is 
really a literary person, his way of using words is his own 
and unlike that of anyone else. Uncle Remus is an extreme 
case, but each author has his personal peculiarities. These 
are significant. They give the individual .flavor to the piece. 
Stories like the fables of Laura E. Richards or Van Dyke's 
' ' A Handful of Clay ' ' are very dependent upon the exact 
word. In preparing these stories, and all others to which 
the word itself means so much, you need not memorize 
them word for word. Get into the spirit of the story by 
frequent reading, and, without your knowing when or how, 
it will become yours. Read many of Dr. Van Dyke's 
stories or many of those of Mrs. Richards until you come 
to have a feeling for their choice of words, their arrange- 
ment in phrase and sentence, until the wrong word or an 
xmharmonious arrangement would produce a slight shock 
to your natural expectation, and then you have made their 
spirit your spirit, by recognition at least. The spirit and 
style are more essential than the words. If you are work- 
ing with Mrs, Richards' fables, it does not matter if you 



38 STOEY-TELLINa 

inadvertently substitute " The- Angel- who-is-aware-of- 
things " for " The-Angel-who-understands-things." One 
conveys the same feeling as the other, and you have not 
halted in confusion while you sought the exact word. In 
preparing to tell the Uncle Remus stories — the most diffi- 
cult task there is for one not a native of the South — read 
many of the stories over and over. Read them until Uncle 
Remus ' way of saying things seems the natural way, until 
you yourself begin to think the thing as Uncle Remus 
would say it. Then Uncle Remus may comment on Brer 
Bar's action and say, " Right thar is whar Brer Bar 
dropped his water-melon," whether the text of the story 
authorizes that particular remark or not. 

Tell only stories you like. Stories which you do not 
like, stories which make no appeal to you, are not for 
you to tell. No matter how much others may like the 
story or how high it is rated, you yourself must see some- 
thing in it, must like it and feel " called " to tell it. Other- 
wise the story will fall flat and uninteresting. You can- 
not expect your audience to be absorbed in your disinter- 
ested interpretations. Sham shows through in story-tell- 
ing more quickly than in any other form of art. If you 
assume an attitude or an emotion that you do not feel, your 
attempt at deception will deceive nobody. Your actions 
and your face will betray you. Limit your repertory to 
stories which you find absolutely attractive. Those good 
stories you do not find to your liking will be attractive to 
some other story-teller. 



HOW TO AEEANGE AND TELL STOEIES 39 

Believe your tale ! If in imagination you cannot see 
fairies, don't tell your children about them. You cannot 
make them see what you cannot see for yourself. Can you 
have a hope of showing a child the woman in the moon, 
the golden chariot made by the clouds at sunset, or the 
beautiful palace surrounded by the high walls made by 
the glowing embers in the grate at night, if you do not see 
them yourself? If your own imagination does not picture 
the scene and accept the incident as possible, do not attempt 
to tell children about the fairy god-mother who changed 
Cinderella's rags into a beautiful and dainty party gown, 
for they will never believe your tale. There are enough 
beautiful stories, some of which will certainly appeal to 
you. Then, discriminate ; choose your own kind. Do not 
tell a story just because some one else has told it. If you 
do not care for it, leave it for someone else who does. 

Imagined pictures. What are you giving the children 
when you are telling them a story ? You draw for them in 
words a series of pictures. In order to make it possible 
for them to see these pictures the teller must, herself, 
first visualize them. But these imagined pictures are un- 
like the pictures which an artist paints with colors. They 
must be pictures made living by means of action. They 
must be dynamic. Sir Galahad upon his white steed must 
ride down to the sea and enter Solomon 's ship ; Cinder- 
ella 's coach must change into a pumpkin at the stroke of 
twelve ; the swan boat must stop at the shore, and Lohen- 
grin must step forth to rescue Elsa from what seems her 



40 STOEY-TELLING 

cruel and ineludible fate ; the child must reach down from 
the tree and kiss the Selfish Giant. In every situation there 
must be the picture and the animation that means life. 

The story plan, or plot. A series of related stereop- 
ticon views are interesting to children ; but how much more 
interesting is a series of moving pictures working out a 
narrative through a succession of scenes selected and ar- 
ranged — scenes so ordered as to produce the culminative 
effect of skillfully constructed drama or short story. There 
must be plenty of action, but the action must be arranged 
so as to come to something. You must have an organized 
plan. First there must be an explanatory part preceding 
the incident that sets the story going. Call this the Set- 
ting, Background, or Preliminary Situation, and include in 
it an account of place, time, and characters, and their rela- 
tions each to the other. Get the setting before your hearers 
as quickly as may be to be clear. Describe your char- 
acters clearly, but be concise, and then make your people 
do something, make something happen to start the train 
of action. Following this you must let your story advance 
by a series of definitely ordered steps. You must have the 
steps of your story well enough in mind that you will not 
forget the order. Nothing is so disconcerting to the lis- 
teners as not to be able to follow the chain of events in 
the story. If you happen to forget a step in your plot, 
either omit that part entirely, or if it is an essential step 
in the story structure, weave it into some later part of 
the story in such way as to supply the necessary element 
"without breaking the continuity of the action. To say " I 



HOW TO AEEANGE AND TELL STOEIES 41 

forgot " and then go back, interrupts the orderly course 
of the story, and the child will find it impossible to place his 
pictures correctly. Having related your story in a series 
of ordered steps — Preliminary Situation, Initial Incident, 
and a series of steps in an action rising in interest to a 
culmination — close the tale with a satisfactory conclusion, 
one that will give the children a feeling that -the story has 
really been finished. 

Simplicity. While dramatic action and movement are 
necessary to the story, these can be overdone. The emo- 
tional element can be so emphasized as to seem unreal. If 
either phase of narration is stressed out of proportion, the 
children soon discover the unreality and mentally say, 
" She is putting on." Be simple if you wish to seem nat- 
ural. Simplicity is the keynote to effective story-telling. 

Preparation. Believing is the first step in preparation. 
For the time, the events must seem to the story-teller so 
wonderful that all will be glad to hear of them. She must 
have this attitude toward whatever story she tells. She 
must regard Peter Pan's experiences as the most wonder- 
ful a child ever had. The Great Stone Face must seem 
so wonderful that Ernest may well be attracted to it and 
gaze upon those strong but gentle features until he aspires 
to be like his ideal of strength and goodness and gentle- 
ness. Then it will be no surprise, but a natural and 
accepted culmination, when the people of Ernest's village 
turn to him and see him as the one human being in the 
world who embodies the qualities reflected in the Great 
Stone Face. 



42 STOEY-TELLING 

In preparing a story for telling, the narrator will find 
it necessary to read it over a number of times to get the 
spirit and tone and to fix the mental pictures of the piece. 
The story may be organized by asking a series of qi^es- 
tions of yourself after you have gone through the story 
with the book closed. Have I succeeded in arranging my 
pictures in an ordered way? Does the first picture pre- 
sent the elements of a clear preliminary situation? Does 
the next incident start the story into motion ? Do the suc- 
ceeding pictures present a naturally ascending series of 
incidents leading to the culmination which you have fore- 
seen as the logical high point of your story? And then 
have you anything left to round the story out to a quieter 
and more convincing conclusion ? 

Do not be in a hurry to use your story before an audi- 
ence. Live with it as long as possible. Eead it over at 
every opportunity you have. Finally practice in telling 
it aloud, with or without an audience. If you are telling 
a story of people of a foreign land, learn as much about 
the customs of the people as you can. Familiarity with 
scenes and customs gives an intensified appearance of truth. 
After all this preparation there remains only one thing 
more to do, and that is to tell the story. Tell the par- 
ticular story over and over as often as you find an inter- 
ested audience. A story has not served its time and pur- 
pose when it has been heard for a single time. With its 
first telling it simply takes its place in the story-teller's 
repertory, there to be called up for use as many times as 
occasion can be found for it. The whole list of a story- 



HOW TO AEEANGE AND TELL STOEIES 43 

teller's tales is to be regarded not as if in cold storage, 
but upon the live list for constant use. Practice makes per- 
fect in the story-teller's art. 

Telling' the story. The narrator and the audience 
should be close together. The teacher who stands afar off 
and on a high stage does not succeed in getting the re- 
sponse from her audience that is given to one who stands 
close to her hearers. She should be able to see the faces 
of individual listeners, into their eyes even. If one child 
seems interested in something other than the story, the 
teller can, for the time, tell the story directly to this 
wavering one. Not only this, but it is a great help to the 
story-teller to see and feel the response from her audi- 
ence. Children enjoy the feeling inspired by a story-teller 
who gives them pictures for their enjoyment which she 
apparently enjoys herself, as well as the happiness that 
comes to her from the appreciation of her hearers. One 
who makes herself sympathetically remote from her audi- 
ence can give them only the crumbs which she lets fall from 
the story banquet. She cannot give her hearers the full 
feast. If the group is too large for the intimate touch and 
sight, the next best thing is the straight-forward manner 
even over a greater gap of distance. Look into the faces 
of your audience. Make them feel that you are interested 
in them and have something interesting for them. The 
facial expression of the narrator, the light in the eyes, has 
a great deal to do with insuring the success of a story. 
The foundation principle of the whole matter, however, is 
a personal interest in the story you are telling and a sym- 



44 STOEY-TELLING 

pathetic understanding of the group of listeners who are 
to hear your tale of joy or wonder or humor or clever- 
ness or whatever it may happen to be. 

The Bear as a Humorist * 

Not long ago, about the time a party of Americans were 
setting out for India to hunt the tiger, a young banker 
from New York came to California to hunt what he rightly 
considered the nobler beast. 

He chartered a small steamer in San Francisco Bay and 
taking with him a party of friends, as well as a great-grand- 
son of Daniel Boone, a famous hunter, for a guide, he 
sailed up the coast to the redwood wilderness of Humboldt. 
Here he camped on the bank of a small stream in a madrona 
thicket and began to hunt for his bear. He found his 
bear, an old female with young cubs. As Boone was nat- 
urally in advance when the beast was suddenly stumbled 
upon, he had to do the fighting; and this gave the banker 
from the States a chance to scramble up a small madrona. 
Of course he dropped his gun. They always do drop their 
guns by some singularly sad combination of accidents, 
when they start up a tree with two rows of big teeth in 
the rear, and it is hardly fair to expect the young bear- 
hunter from New York to prove an exception. Poor Boone 
was severely maltreated by the savage old mother grizzly 
in defense of her young. There was a crashing of brush 
and a crushing of bones, and then all was still. 

* Reprinted by permission of Rand McNally & Co., from 
"True Bear Stories." Copyrighted, 1900. 



HOW TO ARRANGE AND TELL STORIES 45 

Suddenly the bear seemed to remember that there was a 
second party who had been in earnest search for a bear, and 
looking back down the trail and up in the boughs of a 
small tree, she saw a pair of boots. She left poor Boone 
senseless on the ground and went for those boots. Coming 
forward, she reared up under the tree and began to claw 
for the capitalist. He told me that she seemed to him, 
as she stood there, to be about fifty feet high. Then she 
laid hold of the tree. 

Fortunately this madrona tree is of a hard and unyield- 
ing nature, and with all her strength she could neither 
break nor bend it. But she kept thrusting up her long nose 
and longer claws, laying hold first of his boots, which she 
pulled off, one after the other, with her teeth, then with 
her claws she took hold of one garment and then another 
till the man of money had hardly a shred, and his legs 
were streaming with blood. Fearing that he should faint 
from loss of blood, he lashed himself to the small trunk 
of the tree by his belt and then began to scream with all 
his might for his friends. 

When the bear became weary of clawing up at the dan- 
gling legs, she went back and began to turn poor Boone 
over to see if he showed any signs of life. Then she came 
back and again clawed a while at the screaming man up 
the madrona tree. It was great fun for the bear ! 

To cut a thrilling story short, the party in camp on the 
other side of the creek finally came in hail, when the old 
bear gathered up her babies and made safe exit up a 
gulch, Boone, who now lives in Arizona, was so badly 



46 STORY-TELLING 

crushed and bitten that his life was long despaired of, but 
he finally got well. The bear, he informed me, showed no 
disposition to eat him while turning him over and tap- 
ping him with her foot and thrusting her nose into his 
bleeding face to see if he still breathed. 

Story after story of this character could be told to prove 
that the grizzly at home is not entirely brutal and savage ; 
but rather a good-natured lover of his family and fond of 
his sly joke. — Joaquin Miller. 

Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata 

It happened at Vienna. One moonlight evening, in early 
summer, a friend called upon Beethoven. He said, ' ' Come, 
let us walk together in the moonlight." Arm in arm the 
two friends strolled through the city. In passing through 
a dark, narrow street, Beethoven paused suddenly. 
" Hush! " he said. " What sound is that? It is from 
my sonata in F. Hark, how well it is played ! " 

It was a mean little dwelling before which the two 
friends paused to listen. The music went on. Almost at 
the end of the beautiful sonata, the music ceased, and low 
sobs were heard instead. A girl's soft voice said, " I can 
go no farther. It is too beautiful. I have not the power 
to play it as it should be played. Oh, what would I not 
give to go to one of Beethoven 's concerts ! ' ' 

" Ah, my sister," said another voice, " why wish for 
that which you can not have? We can scarcely pay our 
rent." 



HOW TO AEEANGE AND TELL STORIES 47 

" You are right," answered the girl, " and yet I wish 
for once in my life to hear some really good music. ' ' 

" Such a wish will never be granted," said her com- 
panion. 

Beethoven looked at his friend. " Let us go in," he said. 

" Go in! Why should we go in? " 

" I will play for her," said the master, in a low tone. 
" This girl has the soul of a musician. I will play for 
her, and she will understand." Without waiting for an 
answer, his hand was upon the door. 

As the two friends entered the room, they saw a pale, 
young man sitting by a table making shoes. Near him sat 
a young girl. She was leaning sorrowfully upon an old- 
fashioned harpsichord. Her long, golden hair fell over 
her neck and shoulders. Both the young man and the girl 
were very poorly dressed. Both started and turned toward 
the door as the strangers entered the room. 

" Pardon me," said Beethoven, " but I heard the music 
and was tempted to enter. I am a musician. ' ' 

The girl blushed, and the young man appeared annoyed. 
" I also heard something of what you said," continued 
Beethoven. " Shall I play for you? Shall I give you a 
concert? " 

Beethoven's manner was so friendly and his voice so 
kindly that a smile took the place of the frown on the 
young man's face. The four, who but a moment ago were 
strangers, became friends at once. 

" Thank you," said the shoemaker, " but our harp- 
sichord is so poor and we have no music." 



48 STOEY-TELLING 

" No music," echoed Beethoven. " How then does the 
young lady play so — " He stopped suddenly, for the 
girl turned her face toward him, and for the first time 
he saw that she was blind. 

" I beg your pardon," he stammered, " but I had not 
noticed before. Then you play by ear ? ' ' 

" Yes, entirely," the girl answered. 

** And where do you hear music, since you attend no 
concerts? " asked Beethoven. 

" I used to hear a lady practicing near us. During the 
summer evenings her windows were often open, and I 
walked to and fro outside to listen." 

The girl seemed shy; so Beethoven said no more. He 
seated himself quietly before the harpsichord and began to 
play. Never before had Beethoven played as he played 
that night for the blind girl and her brother. From the 
moment that his fingers began to wander over the keys, 
the very tone of the instrument seemed to grow sweeter. 

The brother and sister were silent with wonder. The 
young man laid aside his work and the girl sat perfectly 
quiet. She leaned forward a little as if afraid lest she 
might miss a single note of the sweet music. 

Suddenly the flame of the candle wavered, sank, flick- 
ered, and went out. Beethoven paused. His friend rose 
quietly and threw open the shutters. A flood of soft moon- 
light filled the room, so that it was almost as light as 
before. The moonbeams fell brightest upon the piano and 
the player. 

But the music had stopped. The master's head dropped 



HOW TO AERANGE AND TELL STORIES 49 

upon his breast, and his hands rested upon his knees. He 
seemed lost in thought, and sat thus for some time. 

At length the young shoemaker arose. Eagerly, yet 
timidly, he approached the musician. ' ' Wonderful man ! ' ' 
he said in a low voice, " who art thou? " 

One of the composer's rare smiles flitted across his face. 
' ' Listen ! " he said, and with a master 's touch he gave the 
opening bars of his own sonata in F. 

The girl seemed to know that no one but the composer 
of the music could have played it so well. " Then you 
are Beethoven," she exclaimed. Beethoven rose to go, but 
they begged him to stay. ' ' Play to us once more — only 
once more." 

He again seated himself at the piano. The moon shone 
brightly through the window. Looking up thoughtfully to 
the sky and stars, he said, " I will compose a sonata to the 
moonlight." Touching the keys lightly, he began to play 
a sad and lovely melody. The music filled the room as 
gently as the soft moonlight creeps over the dark earth. 

Then the time changed. The music became brighter and 
more rapid. One no longer seemed to see the moon gliding 
thru fleecy clouds. Instead, one thought of sprites and 
fairies dancing merrily together. 

Once again the music changed. The notes were as rapid 
as before, but they seemed fraught with sadness. It was 
such music as fills the heart with wonder. 

" Farewell to you," said Beethoven, pushing back his 
chair and turning toward the door. ' ' Farewell to you. ' ' 



50 ^ STOEY-TELLING 

" You will come again? " said the brother and lister 
in one breath. 

He paused and looked tenderly at the face of the blind 
girl. " Yes, yes," he said, " I will come again and give 
you some lessons. Farewell! I will come soon again." 
His new friends followed him in silence and stood at the 
door until he was out of sight and hearing. 

" Let us hasten home," said Beethoven to his friend. " I 
must write out that sonata while the music is still in my 
mind." When they reached home, Beethoven seated him- 
self at once and began to write. He worked until day- 
break. When he had finished he had written the Moon- 
light Sonata. 

— Adapted. 



CHAPTER III 

TYPES OF STORIES 

Fairy tales. When we think of fairy tales, we in- 
variably recall the old favorites of our childhood, such as 
Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, The Elves and the Shoe- 
maker, and Hansel and Gretel. This type of story is hardly 
suited to children of the upper grades. There are, however, 
modern fairy tales that delight the larger children as much 
as the well-worn nursery tale pleases the smaller. Oscar 
Wilde's fairy tales are just as charming for older pupils 
as are those of Grimm and Anderson in their proper place. 
Take, for example, Wilde's " The Happy Prince," '' The 
Selfish Giant," and " The Star Child." These never fail 
to interest young people when they are well told. What 
more fascinating and beautiful stories would you wish to 
find than Sir James Barrie's "Peter Pan," or Maeter- 
linck's " The Blue Bird," each illuminated by the fairy 
glow ? The moral in these stories for the older children is 
not nearly so self-evident as it is in those which we give 
to smaller children, but it is not beyond the range of 
understanding of children from ten to fifteen years old. 
In Cinderella the reward of goodness and the punishment 
of selfishness and cruelty are made so plain that even the 
the smallest child grasps the meaning of the story. Per- 

51 



52 STOEY-TELLING 

haps it is the obviousness of the theme that prevents these 
simple tales from holding the attention of older children, 
but more mature listeners follow with the keenest interest 
the search of Mytyl and Tyltyl for the elusive blue bird as 
they follow it afar. They know that the Blue Bird is hap- 
piness and that Mytyl and Tyltyl are just a boy and a girl, 
such as they are themselves, — their own representatives, in 
fact, seeking to find happiness, and looking, as most of us 
do, to some place and time far away from our own homes 
and our present lives. When the blue bird is found in 
their own simple home, a sigh of satisfaction from your 
audience is your applause for a story well told and the 
author's reward for presenting a theme that children now 
recognize as true and artistic as well. Now, in such a 
story as this of Maeterlinck's, you can hold both the older 
and younger children. The latter will get only the external 
baffling search for the blue bird without perceiving the 
fundamental meaning of the search for happiness (the 
meaning which the older children will understand), but 
even then the situations themselves are interesting enough 
to hold their attention. 

But even the fairy tales out of the legendary past are 
not without the underlying theme. This is not always pres- 
ent, but in many cases the tales are the attempts of prim- 
itive peoples to account for natural phenomena. While 
our modern fairy tales are not survivals of the personifi- 
cation of the elements, still we find human attributes, 
human sorrows, and perplexities, and the like, given per- 
sonality with effect closely following cause — more closely, 



TYPES OF STOKIES 53 

in fact, than in real life, but still exhibiting the truth of 
punishment of wrong-doing and reward of right living with 
the same effectiveness as in the older fairy tales. 

It is true that the older children have had more expe- 
rience in their lifetime than their younger brothers and 
sisters, and, therefore, have more of a background against 
which to build future experiences. But they still have a 
need for the deepening of impressions by the repetition 
of the same truths which we wish to press home to the 
smaller folk thru the medium of their stories. This can 
be accomplished by telling more mature stories exhibiting 
in their own way the same truths that the simpler stories 
have already illuminated. Children whose imaginations 
have been kindled early are more receptive when they 
reach the age for the more mature story than those who 
have not had such training. These little ones have been 
directed in their dreaming of dreams and seeing of visions. 
They will dream them and see them crudely anyway. But 
now the teaching has given an order to their imaginations 
and perhaps has aroused some spark of creative genius 
within them. Not all children can be trained up to be 
inventors or geniuses, but it is not too much to hope that 
we can fire their imaginations so as to make possible the 
accomplishment of their life work in a way more successful 
than would have been possible without our help. And it 
may be that the imaginative fairy tale will be a not insig- 
nificant factor in the accomplishment of this result. 

It is certainly true that within the charmed circle of 
Fairyland are held the mysteries of life and maybe even 



54 STOEY-TELLING 

the tragedies of death. Childhood naturally lives in the 
atmosphere of a host of fairies. Youth's hope and love is 
a fairy dream. Mother love recites the fairy story and 
sings the babe to its sleep in fairy language. And even old 
age closes life's day with visions of attendant angels, 
and thus is the circle of life completed — the fairy ring 
from infancy to tottering age. 

Mjrths and folk lore. The line between fairy tales, 
myths, and folk lore, is so indistinct that we can scarcely 
classify certain stories under one of these captions with- 
out doubting whether it would not be better placed under 
one of the other two. Properly, myths are only those 
stories which arise in the religions of primitive peoples. 
The Greeks wished to account for the skill of the spider 
in weaving his geometric web. They did this by means of 
a story and at the same time wrote a warning to mortals 
so presumptuous as to vie with the gods in wisdom and 
skill. These ideas are embodied in the story of Arachne 
the weaver, changed into a spider and condemned to weave 
forever because she presumed to challenge Athene to a 
contest of skill in weaving. The Hebrew, believing that 
all people were descended from Adam and Eve, sought 
for an explanation of the diversities in language of the 
nations, and created the story of the Tower of Babel as 
an answer to their natural inquiry. 

In like manner all the primitive peoples evolved stories 
involving explanations of the relations of their gods to 
mankind, and the interrelations of gods and men and 
nature. Bach nation finally succeeded in creating a some- 



TYPES OF STOEIES 55 

what ordered cycle of these stories, making what we call 
the mythology of that people. 

The Norse Myths, for example, deal with the days of 
Odin, the father of all their gods, and relate the history 
of his family of gods and goddesses. In this mythology 
children find Thor, the thunder god, a favorite. They are 
interested also in the doings of the mischievous Loki, the 
trouble maker. The constant struggle between the Frost 
Giants and the dwellers in Asgard uses the natural forces, 
cold and heat, the arresting winter and the beneficent, life- 
giving summer to exhibit the never-ending battle of good 
against evil in the world. Our children enjoy these tales. 
The strength and ruggedness of these peoples and their 
gods make a strong appeal to the vigorous child mind. 

The myths of the Greeks are of a type quite different 
from those of the Norsemen. All the love of beauty and 
the sensuousness of southern races are reflected in the per- 
sonalities and characteristics which they ascribed to the 
gods whom they endowed with all their own human frailties 
as well as their admirable qualities. Hence in these tales 
Aphrodite, the goddess of love and sensuous beauty, plays 
a prominent part. Apollo is also a favorite. The inter- 
pretation of the seasonal changes in these myths is beauti- 
fully set forth in the myth of Persephone. Could we imag- 
ine anything more beautiful than the garden in which little 
Persephone played ? How happy she must have been with 
the water nymphs for playmates ! Contrast with this story 
the northern myth of Balder, and it will appear how 
climate affects the disposition of a people, and how their 



56 STOEY-TELLING 

own disposition and inclinations color their .beliefs and their 
expression in literature. If the child is later to understand 
the history of these different peoples, he must become 
familiar with their religious notions. And so it may be 
that the form and import of the myths of a nation may 
be altered according to the age of the listeners. 

The nature mj'ths, of which there is an abundance, which 
in the main attempt to account for various phenomena in 
nature, deal more particularly with the plant and animal 
life which we recognize as influences all about us — flowers, 
and birds, and animals imbued Avitli human attributes. In 
such myths as these we may find two nations using com- 
mon observations of nature, but making versions of them 
absolutely different one from the other. Consider, as an 
instance of this, the Norse and the American Indian ver- 
sions of Why the Robin has a Red Breast. 

In the first the setting is decidedly of the northland. A 
poor little gray bird valiantly flies across the glowing coals 
of fire beside which a man sleeps in comfort. The bird, 
the friend of man, attacks the great white bear that has 
come down from the frozen North to steal away these life- 
saving embers from the sleeping man and his son. When 
the bird flies close to the glowing fire the heat changes the 
gray of the robin's breast to a brilliant red, and so all the 
tribe after him is marked with the red breast as a token of 
his courage and his devotion to man. 

The Indian version celebrates the same courage and 
friendship, but with a different tale and a setting appro- 
priate to the Indian 's native land and his customs of living. 



TYPES OF STORIES 57 

In this story the little gray friends of the Indian chief save 
his life by flying in front of the arrows of the chief's 
enemies, but are themselves struck by the arrows and 
stained by their own blood. Both stories are intended to 
explain a natural phenomenon, and though different in 
form, they both give a poetic reason for the red breast of 
the robin. 

Now, turn to a consideration of Oscar Wilde's " The 
Nightingale and the Eose." This tale might easily be 
adapted and used as a nature myth — The First Red Rose. 
Again the bird, this time the nightingale, is the friend 
of man. A poet 's lady love pines for a rose more attract- 
ive than the pale white one. The nightingale, the poet's 
bird, impales himself upon the rose thorn and then dyes 
the white rose with his heart's blood to make it possible 
for his friend to carry a red rose to his love. 

The Nature myths of the American Indian are among 
the most attractive of all. Take for your examination the 
story of the First Water Lily, The First Yucca Plant, and 
the Indian Blanket. The Indians lived closer to nature 
and were apparently more sensitive to her beauties than 
other races. Their instinctive appreciation of bright colors 
may account for their response to the beautiful colors in 
nature. 

Legends. Legendary tales, which are such a mixture 
of truth and fancy and around which have been woven 
so much idealism, are dear to the childish heart when fairy 
tales no longer satisfy and the historical heroes are too pro- 
saic and far away. Hence along in the fifth and sixth 



58 STORY-TELLING 

grades and sometimes earlier than that we find children 
reveling in stories from the Iliad and the Odyssey. They 
will listen with delight to the stories of King Arthur and 
his knights of the Eound Table, of Beowulf, and of Robin 
Hood. The Scandinavian hero, Frithiof, is another favorite. 
From the French the story-teller may use the legends of 
Roland, the Siegfried tales from the German store, and 
stories of the Cid from the Spanish. The Rustum legends 
may be borrowed from the Persian national epic, and 
William Tell from the Swiss. 

Each group of stories will be characterized by some spe- 
cial national trait. The ruggedness of the Vikings will 
appear in the Frithiof series. The idealism of the Germans 
will be seen in the Siegfried legends. These traits will be 
understood by the children and will win their admira- 
tion. The events in the stories of Roland attract children 
because of their natural interest in heroism on the field of 
battle. The Cid stories need to be selected and arranged 
so as to bring out the hero's daring on the battlefield and 
his courage in defying the authority of the tyrannous gov- 
ernor. The skill shown by William Tell in shooting the 
apple from his son's head instantly wins the approval of 
young listeners and serves to hold their attention until the 
more important lessons of the series are developed. The 
quaintness of the language of Rustum is attractive and 
should be retained for its own sake. Finally, the adven- 
turesome spirit of Beowulf is so fascinating that there is 
hardly a boy who hears the tale without sighing for other 
monsters to conquer. 



TYPE8 OF STORIES 59 

To be most effective these legends must be broken up 
into units, each of which is a complete incident. And 
then the incidents must be arranged in a logical sequence 
leading up to the incident which is the natural high point 
of interest for that particular series. After the King 
Arthur stories the Siegfried story might be narrated, ar- 
ranged in a series similar to the Wagner Opera Stories. 
Parsifal makes a natural link from the King Arthur to the 
Siegfried group. This would be followed by the story of 
Lohengrin ; or if we take the order suggested by Grace 
Edson Barber in her " Wagner Opera Story," we might 
follow the Siegfried opera story by the Parsifal to show 
the change which came to the world after the Curse of the 
Ring had been removed by the return of the evil jewel to 
its rightful owners, the Rhine Maidens. 

Historical Stories. Historical and biographical stories 
are of special interest to older children. They always like 
to hear about events which really happened — about people 
who really lived. The boys enjoy the stories about the 
life of Napoleon. Stories of our own country are full of 
interest for children of this age. What boy or girl of fifth 
grade age does not enjoy the story of Columbus, his pres- 
entation at the court of Queen Isabella and King Ferdi- 
nand, his trip across the ocean, his perseverence and final 
landing, and at last his treatment by the Spaniards when 
he returned to Spain? Tell one or two of these stories 
and then let the boys and girls read the remainder of the 
history connected with the situation. Care enough about 
the history lesson, however, to tell a story or two your- 



go STOEY-TELLING 

self. The added interest of the children will certainly 
repay you for your trouble. The same may be done with 
other explorers of America, if you wish, or those of other 
countries. Take, for instance, Father Marquette, Lewis 
and Clark, Daniel Boone, and Kit Carson; or, going far- 
ther back, consider Cortez in Mexico, Balboa in Panama, 
Cabot in Newfoundland, and numerous others which you 
will naturally recall. 

The trials and adventures of the early colonists make 
good stories, and the experiences of the early frontiersmen 
in our own part of the country as well. Take, for example, 
** The Buffalo on the Plains," by Francis Parkman, 

There is a large field in the lives of soldiers and states- 
men — ^Washington, Franklin, Lincoln, Grant, Napoleon 
and Bismark. 

For the girls, stories of the life of Joan of Arc are always 
interesting. Later narratives about Florence Nightingale, 
Jenny Lind, Frances E. Willard, Louisa May Alcott and 
Alice Freeman Palmer will be found quite as attractive if 
skillfully told. 

The lives of those whom we have learned to know 
as heroes of peace are of absorbing interest also. Mary H. 
Wade in " Wonder Workers " relates in a very delightful, 
intimate way incidents in the lives of Luther Burbank, 
Helen Keller, Thomas A. Edison, Jane Addams, and others. 

The following series of stories will illustrate how his- 
torical or biographical material can be arranged in sequence 
for the oral story-teller : 



TYPES OF STOEIES 61 

Florence Nightingale — Laura E. Richards 
Little Florence, pp. 9-11, 

13 — Par. 2, 

14 — Par. 2-18, end of Chap. 
Waiting for the call — Chap. V, p. 40. 

The Lady in Chief — (Give contents of Chap. IX briefly.) 
(Chap. X, condense.) 

The Lady with the Lamp — Chap. XI. 

Miss Nightingale Under Fire — Chap. XIII. 

The Close of the War — Begin Par. 4, p. 146 to p. 158. 

The Tasks of Peace — Par. 2, p. 162 to p. 167, 

Ethical stories. One instinctively thinks of sermons, 
preachings, and moralizing tales. But there are some stories 
which we wish to give as a dose of medicine; for we feel 
that a certain story would be helpful in curing a social 
ill. Very often there is a truth which we wish to press 
home, but in telling the story which embodies that truth 
it is not necessary to point the moral. The child will take, 
as a rule, the moral which fits his own case. " The Palace 
Raised by Music " in Eaymond M. Alden's collection, 
' ' Why the Chimes Rang, ' ' was recently told to a group of 
children. This group was composed of little individuals, 
each one considering only himself and his own desires. The 
group did not work as a social whole. After the story had 
been told, the teller paused for a few moments. The group 
was perfectly quiet, and then one boy, who was one of the 
most individualistic of the group, raised his hand and 
expressed this sentiment : "I believe we 'd all be happier 
if we'd all play together and try to raise the palace. " That 



62 STOEY-TELLING 

story had performed a mission. It did more good than 
two weeks of talking and scolding on the part of the 
teacher could have done. 

In administering these stories as medicine, care has to 
be taken that an over-dose is not given. You cannot plan 
to give a certain number a week or at stated times ; the 
person who has the interests of the children at heart will 
have to use her own judgment as to how often, what kind, 
and when. 

Maud Lindsay's '' Mother Stories," and " More Mother 
Stories," are two excellent collections of stories which 
point a special truth. ' ' The Closing Door ' ' is particu- 
larly good for girls from eleven to fourteen years of age 
when they are beginning to keep secrets from mother and 
to feel that mother is not quite as sympathetic as she might 
be. '^ The Apron String " in Laura E, Eichard's " Golden 
Windows " is especially 'good for boys of that age when 
they begin to grow a bit restive under their mother's re- 
straining hand. 

" The Prominent Man" in the same collection is very 
appropriate for the small boy whose self importance is 
beginning to grow unbearable. '' The Hunt for the Beau- 
tiful," by Raymond M. Alden, is an excellent tale for the 
child who has grown tired of home and wishes to go away 
and find something worth while; for the time when the 
grass on the next hill begins to look greener than that in 
his own dooryard. " The Vision of Anton the Clock- 
maker," by "Walter A. Dyer, shows the child the need of 
a vision, of an ideal, if he wishes to make something of 



TYPES OF STOEIES 63 

his life and leave the world better for his having lived 
in it. 

The ethical story is just as valuable and has just as 
important a place in the schoolroom as in the home. The 
whole group may not get the point in each story, but if 
two or three do, it is worth while. Then, too, there are 
leaders in every group. If you are able to make an impres- 
sion upon the leaders, you have won the majority of your 
group. Do not be afraid to use the ethical story in the 
schoolroom ; but beware of pointing the moral. As soon as 
you state your moral or try to draw out a statement from 
the child, he revolts. He will usually tell you that the 
story did not teach him anything. After you have told 
an ethical story, leave it. If the child is moved to give 
the moral of his own free will, very well ; if not, you have 
not necessarily failed in your presentation, for your tale' 
may have touched him in a manner that may show itself 
later in conduct, instead of calling forth an immediate 
response in words. 

Biblical stories. No other book in the world holds 
such a wealth of stories of various types as the Bible, and 
no other stories hold more interest than the Biblical Stories 
if properly told. Consider for a moment the number of 
stories of boys in the Bible — they are not isolated stories, 
but trace the life of the character often from babyhood 
until death — a whole cycle of life. Take for intsance the 
story of Moses. The babyhood of Moses and his advent into 
the King's palace make a beautiful story, one which will 
appeal immediately to the boys and girls. A volume of 



64 STOEY-TELLING 

Bible Stories and Poems which is published by the Illus- 
trated Bible Selections Commission, gives the stories from 
the Creation to the Captivity on the historical plan. The 
first story of Moses is given under the general heading, 
The Beginning of the Hebrew Nation, and is entitled : " A 
Foundling who Founded a Nation:" Exodus I, 22-11, 
1-10. The rest of the cycle is given under the following 
titles : 

(2) The Courage and Courtesy of Moses: Exodus II, 
11-22. This includes the incident of Moses and the Egyp- 
tion Slave Driver. 

(3) Moses' Vacation Day: Exodus II, 23-25; III, 1-17. 
This includes the incident of the burning bush. 

(4) Pharaoh Rejects Moses' Plea for His People: Ex- 
odus IV, 10-14, 29-31 ; Exodus V, 1-14. 

(5) The Birthday of the Hebrew Nation. In which 
Pharaoh lets the Israelites Go : Exodus XII, 21-36, 41. 

(6) Overthrow of the Egyptians in the Red Sea: Exodus 
XIII, 17, 18, 21 ; XIV, 9-16, 19-25, 28-30. 

(7) Bread from Heaven: Exodus XV, 22-27; XVI, 1-5; 
10-18. 

(8) Victorious Battle with Amalekites: Exodus XVII. 

(9) Jethro's Reform of the Government: Exodus XVIII, 
8-24. 

(10) The Hebrew Thanksgiving Day: Leviticus XVIII, 
39-44; XXVI, 3-16. 

(11) All's Love, Yet All's Law: Exodus XX, 1-17. 

(12) Many Other Commandments Besides the Ten: Ex- 



TYPES OF STOEIES 65 

odus XXIII, 1-9, 3-19 ; Leviticus XIX, 9-17, 30-37 ; Deuter- 
onomy X, 12-16, 

(13) Moses Transfigured by the Vision of Grod: Exodus 
XXXIV, 29-34. 

(14) Bezalel the Inspired Mechanic: Exodus XXXV, 
30-35 ; XXXVI, 1 ; XL, 17, 34-38. 

(15) Joshua and Caleb, the Fearless Scouts: Numbers 
XIII, 1-3, 25-28, 30-32 ; XIV, 1-4, 26-32. 

(16) Laws of Kindness: Numbers XXI, 4-9; Deuter- 
onomy XV, 7, 8, 10, 11 ; XXII, 1-4, 6, 7 ; XXIV, 14, 15, 19. 

(17) Death of Moses and Call of Joshua: Deuteronomy 
XXXIV; Joshua 1,1-9. 

This is a very workable cycle, as are all of those in the 
book. 

The history of the Old Testament ought to be of intense 
interest to boys and girls of this age. 

In the New Testament the problem is somewhat differ- 
ent. After the incident of Christ in the Temple at the 
age of twelve, we hear nothing concerning him until he is 
baptized by John the Baptist and begins his ministry. So 
there is a period in the life of Jesus of about eighteen years, 
during which time His development would be of great 
interest to children of this age, but we have to be content 
with the two verses which St. Luke gives us : 

" And he went down with them and came to Nazareth 
and was subject unto them, but his mother kept all these 
sayings in her heart." 

" And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in 
favor with God and Man." 



66 STOEY-TELLINa 

Beginning with the calling of the Four, after the bap- 
tism of Jesus by John the Baptist, the following cycle may 
be used, very well : 

1. Jesus calls the Four, Peter, Andrew, James and 
John : Mark I, 16-20 ; Luke V, 1-11 ; Matthew IV, 18-22. 

2. Jesus the Physician: Matthew VIII, 1-17; Mark I, 
21-45 ; Luke IV, 31-44. 

3. The Call of Matthew: Matthew IX, 9-13; Mark II, 
13-17 ; Luke V, 27-32. 

4. The Man at Bethesda Pool : John V, 1-19. 

5. Disciples Gathering Grain : Matthew XII, 1-9 ; Mark 
II, 23-28 ; Luke VI, 1-6. 

6. The Man with the Withered Hand : Matthew XII, 9-14 ; 
Mark III, 1-6; Luke VI, 6-11. 

7. Choosing the Twelve : Mark III, 13-19 ; Luke VI, 12-19. 

8. Sermon on the Mount: Matthew V, 1-20; Luke VI, 
20-49. 

9. The Centurion's Servant Healed : Matthew VIII, 5-13 ; 
Luke VII, 1-10. 

10. Raising the Widow's Son: Luke VII, 11-16. 

11. Jesus at the House of Simon the Pharisee : Luke VII, 
36-50 ; Mark XIV, 1-9. 

12. Stilling the Tempest: Luke VIII, 22-26; Mark IV, 
35-41. 

13. Jarius' Daughter Raised from the Dead: Luke VIII, 
40-42, 49-56. 

14. Christ Gives Power to Heal Disease to His Apostles : 
Luke IX, 1-6. 



TYPES OF STOEIES 67 

15. Christ Feeds the Five Thousand and Walks on the 
Sea: Matthew XIV, 14-34; Luke IX, 11-17 ; John VI, 1-21. 

16. Christ's Transfiguration: Mark IX, 1-9; Matthew 
XVII, 1-9. 

17. Seventy Disciples Sent Forth: Luke X, 1-37. 

18. Christ at the Home of Mary and Martha: Luke X, 
37-42 ; John XII, 1-8. 

19. Christ Teaches the Disciples to Pray : Luke XI, 1-13 ; 
Matthew VI, 5-15. 

20. Parables : 

The Parable of the Sower: Luke VIII, 4-21 ; Mark 

IV. 
The Parable of the Marriage Supper : Luke XIV, 

1-24. 
The Parable of the Lost Sheep : Luke XV, 1-10. 
The Parable of the Prodigal Son : Luke XV, 11-32. 
The Parable of the Unjust Steward: Luke XVI, 

1-13. 
The Parable of the Ten Pieces of Money: Luke 

XIX, 1-27. 
The Parable of the Vineyard: Luke XX, 1-26; 

Mark XII, 1-17. 
The Parable of the Ten Virgins : Matthew XXV, 

1-13. 

21. Healing of the Ten Lepers : Luke XVII, 11-19. 

22. Christ Foretells His Death : Luke XVIII, 28-34. 
Passion Week: 

1. Christ's Entry Into Jerusalem: Mark XI, 1-11; 
Luke XIX, 29-48. 



68 STOEY-TELLIN(> 

2. The Last Supper : Luke XXII, 1-39 ; John XIII ; 

Mark XIV, 1-31 ; Matthew XXVI, 17-35. 

3. Christ in the Garden : Luke XXII, 39-54 ; John 

XVIII, 1-15; Mark XIV, 32-42; Matthew 
XXVI, 35-46. 

4. Judas Betrays Jesus: Matthew XXVI, 14-16; 

Mark XIX, 42-46 ; Matthew XXVI, 47-54. . 

5. Peter Denies Christ : Luke XXII, 54-62 ; John 

XVIII, 15-37; Mark XIV, 66-72; Matthew 

XXVI, 69-75. 

6. Christ Before Pilate : Mark XV, 1-19 ; Matthew 

XXVII, 11-31; Luke XXIII, 1-26; John 

XVIII, 28-40; John XIX, 1-16. 

7. Christ Crucified: Luke XXIII, 26-56; John 

XIX, 17-42; Mark XV, 20.47; Matthew 
XXVI, 30-66. 

8. The Resurrection: Luke XXIV, 1-34; John 

XX, 1-18 ; Matthew XXVIII, 28; Mark XVI, 
1-8. 

9. Christ Shows Himself to His Friends : John 

XX, 19-31; Mark XVI, 9-20; Luke XXIV, 
35-53. 
The life of Peter makes a good story cycle. The fact 
that Peter was so impetuous and had such a struggle with 
himself in order to do the right thing makes him seem 
more human and in many ways appeals more to boys and 
girls than the stories of Jesus the Divine. 

The life of Paul makes another interesting story sequence. 
In telling Bible stories, retain the Biblical language 



TYPES ujT stories 69 

wherever possible. However, do not sacrifice the climax 
of your story in order to do this. Do not drag out your 
story unnecessarily. Tell it simply and plainly and an 
interested audience will be assured. 

Isaac, the Child of Promise 

There lived in the land near Hebron a patriarch named 
Abraham, and his wife, Sarah. They were old and had 
no children, and Abraham, fearing that he might die and 
have no sons to bear his name, prayed that this might not 
be. God heard his prayer and called him out into the 
night and bade him look up into the heavens lighted by the 
myriad of stars. Then God made a promise to Abraham, 
saying: '' Look now toward heaven and tell the stars if 
thou be able to number them. As the stars in multitude, 
so shall be thy descendants." 

After many years a son came into the home of Abraham 
and Sarah, and they called his name Isaac, meaning laugh- 
ter. He was a child of promise and the hope of the house 
of Israel. 

When Isaac was thirteen years old, God appeared to 
Abraham in a dream, saying: " Take now thy son, thine 
own son, Isaac, whom thou lovest, and get thee up into the 
land of Moriah, and offer him there for a burnt offering 
upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of. ' ' 

Abraham arose early the next morning, and taking 
Isaac, his son, and two of his servants, and an ass to bear 
their burdens, he cut wood for the offering and journeyed 



70 STOEY-TELLINa 

toward the place of which God had told him. After 
traveling for three days, Abraham saw the place where God 
had commanded him to go, and leaving his servants and 
the ass at the foot of the hill, he bound the wood to the 
back of Isaac and with his knife in his hand he started 
to the top of the hill. Then Isaac said to his father, 
' ' Father, you have often taken me with you when you have 
gone to make an offering unto the Lord, but always you 
have carried a young lamb or kid to offer on the altar 
before the Lord. Now you carry none. Where is the 
sacrifice with which you will do homage to-day ? ' ' 

Surely these words must have wrung the heart of Abra- 
ham, but he answered without hesitation, " My son, the 
Lord will provide." 

When they reached the top of the hill, Abraham built 
an altar with the stones which he found there, and laid 
the wood carefully in place. Then he turned, and without 
a word, bound his son as he was wont to do with the lambs 
which he sacrificed, and Isaac uttered no other word of 
surprise or protest. Abraham laid his son upon the altar, 
and with the knife raised above his heart, he lifted his 
eyes toward heaven. Just then a voice cried to Abraham ; 
and God, who had been watching the struggle of the old 
man whom he had seen fit to try, said to him : ' ' Lay not 
thine hand upon the lad, neither do thou anything unto 
him, for now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou 
hast not withheld the offer of thy son, thine only son, 
from me." 

Abraham looked around and saw a young ram entangled 



TYPES OF STOEIES 71 

by the horns in the bushes near by. He quickly caught it, 
unbound his son, Isaac, and put the young ram in his 
stead. And now God spoke to Abraham a second time, 
saying: " Because thou hast done this thing, and hast 
not withheld from me thy son, thine only son, I will bless 
thee and multiply thy descendants as the stars of heaven, 
and as the sand which is upon the seashore, and in thy 
descendants shall all the nations of the earth be blessed, 
because thou hast obeyed my voice." 

Abraham and his son then went down to the foot of the 
hill and with their two servants and their ass journeyed to 
Beersheba, their home, and Isaac lived with his parents and 
grew strong in body and mind. 

— Retold dy Nellie Margaret Statler. 

Isaac and Eebekah 

Abraham was growing old, and he knew that his days 
were numbered. He wished to see his son Isaac happily 
married before he died, and so he called to him one of his 
stewards and bade him go into- the land of Mesopotamia, to 
the city of Nahor, which was his own land, and there find 
a wife for Isaac; for he did not wish his son to marry a 
woman of Canaan. The steward started out upon the 
journey to the city of Nahor with ten camels. "When he 
came to the walls of the city, he waited by the well to give 
his camels a drink ; and as he waited, he prayed that God 
would point out to him the maiden who should be the wife 
of Isaac. 

There came to the well to draw water that evening, a 



72 STOEY-TELLING 

beautiful woman, whose manner was as pleasing as her 
face was comely. The steward asked for water and she 
held down her pitcher that he might drink from it. After 
this she went back and drew water for the camels. Then, 
as was the custom in that country, the steward gave pres- 
ents to the maiden, gold and jewels, and said, " Whose 
daughter art thou? " 

She replied, " I am Rebekah, the daughter of Bethuel, 
the son of Nahor. We have plenty of room for you to lodge 
with us this night." She ran ahead and told her brother 
of the stranger, and the brother Laban, coming forth to 
meet the visitor, brought him into the house, and set food 
and drink before him. 

But the steward said, " Before I eat I must tell you why 
I came to the city of Nahor. I am the servant of Abraham, 
who went forth from this land many years ago into the 
land of Canaan. The Lord has blest Abraham with broad 
pastures and rich, and now he has herds and flocks on all 
the hills, and treasures of jewels and fine gold and silver 
in his treasure chests, and many camels to bear his burdens 
and servants to do his bidding. I am come into his own 
land to find a wife for his only son, Isaac ; for he does not 
wish his son to marry with any of the Canaanite women. 
Now, as I came to the well of your city, the daughter of 
this house, Rebekah, came to the well where I stood and gave 
me to drink, both me and my camels. The Lord has put 
it into my heart that she is the one who should be the wife 
of my master's son. 

The father and brother of Rebekah considered the 



TYPES OF STOEIES 73 

matter and then both said, " You may take her to be the 
wife of thy master's son." And they ate and drank 
together that night, and the steward spent the night in the 
house of Bethuel. 

The next morning the steward began to make prepara- 
tions to return to his master. He wished to take Rebekah 
with him, but the mother of Eebekah desired that she should 
not go in such great haste. They called Rebekah to them 
and her father said to her, ' ' Wilt thou go at this time with 
this man? " 

" I will go," replied Rebekah. And thus she and her 
maidens went with the steward of Abraham upon the camels 
which he had brought for them. As they neared the home 
of Abraham, they saw Isaac walking in the field in medita- 
tion, for it was near evening. 

Rebekah said to the steward, " Who is he who walks in 
the field? " 

"It is Isaac, the son of Abraham," the steward made 
answer. 

Rebekah dismounted from her camel, and drawing her 
veil over her face, went to him. The steward told Isaac 
all the things that had passed. When Isaac looked upon 
Rebekah he loved her, and she became his wife, and they 
lived happily together in the land of Beersheba. 

— Retold hy Nellie Margaret Statler. 

Isaac and His Sons 

There were born unto Isaac and Rebekah twin sons, and 
they named the elder Esau, and the younger, Jacob. As 



74 STORY-TELLING 

the boys grew to manhood, Esau became a famous hunter, 
but Jacob liked best to stay at home. Now Isaac loved 
Esau more than Jacob, for he was very fond of the venison 
that his elder son brought him from the hunt. It pleased 
him well that Esau was the elder of the two and the one 
who would inherit a double portion of his estate, in the end. 
But Rebekah loved Jacob the better. 

Now it happened one day, when Esau returned from 
hunting, he found his brother Jacob making a very tempt- 
ing broth, and being very hungry, he asked his brother 
for some of the broth. Jacob was exceedingly selfish and 
cunning, and so he said to his brother, ' ' Sell me your birth- 
right and I will give you some of the savory pottage." 

Esau replied, " "What good will the birthright do me if 
I should die of hunger? Give me the pottage." And thus 
Esau sold his birthright to his brother for a mess of 
pottage. 

When Isaac grew old, his eyes became dim, and he knew 
his children only by feeling of their hands and necks ; for 
Esau's hands and neck were hairy, while Jacob's were 
smooth. At one time Isaac called to him his elder son, 
saying, ' ' Go thou into the forest ; take thy bow and arrow 
and bring me some venison. Cook for me some of the meat 
I love, and I shall bless thee before I die. ' ' And Esau did 
as his father bade him. 

It happened that Rebekah overheard Isaac 's command to 
his elder son. She called Jacob to her and told him of his 
father's command to his brother, and said, " Go out into 
the field and kill two good kids, and I will make from them 



TYPES OF STOEIES 75 

the meat which your father loves, and you shall go in unto 
your father, and he shall give you the blessing which belongs 
to your brother." 

But Jacob replied, ' ' My father will know me, for he will 
feel my hands and neck and find them smooth. ' ' 

" Leave all that to me," replied his mother. 
. Jacob did as his mother bade him, and Rebekah pre- 
pared the meat which Isaac loved. Then she put the skins 
of the kids upon the hands and neck of her favorite son 
and sent him in unto his father. And Isaac said unto him, 
'' Who art thou? " 

Jacob replied, *' I am Esau, your elder son." 

" Come nearer that I may feel thy neck and hands." 

Jacob went nearer, and Isaac said, " The voice is that 
of Jacob, but the hands and neck are those of Esau. ' ' 

Isaac ate of the meat which Jacob had brought him ; and 
then he blessed him with the blessing of the eldest born: 
* ' God give thee, ' ' he prayed, ' ' of the dew of heaven, and 
the fatness of the earth, and plenty of corn and wine. Let 
the people serve thee and the nations bow down to thee. 
Be Lord over thy brethren; and cursed be everyone that 
curseth thee, and blessed be everyone that blesseth thee." 

Then came Esau in from the forest, and prepared a dish 
of savory venison and brought it in to his father. Isaac 
asked, *' Who art thou? " 

" I am Esau, thy first born son," answered his son. 
Then Isaac knew that he had blessed Jacob, and he was 
sore distressed. 

When Esau heard what had happened, he was very angry 



76 STORY-TELLINa 

and begged Isaac to bless him. Isaac blessed Mm, but lie 
could not give to him what he had already given unto 
Jacob. 

Esau made threats to kill Jacob. But Rebekah heard 
the threats which Esau had made, and for safety she sent 
Jacob to her own land, to her brother Laban. Jacob told 
his father, Isaac, that he was going to the land of his 
mother to get him a wife, even as his grandfather Abraham 
had sent to that land for a woman of his own people for his 
son's wife. And Isaac was content, and blessed his son; 
for he was still strongly displeased concerning Esau's mar- 
riage with a woman of Canaan. 

In time Jacob was punished for his wrongdoing, but in 
the end all the blessings that were promised came to him, 
and he became the father of a noble family. The fullest 
blessing of all came after many years, for it was into the 
family of one of his descendants that the Christ was born. 
— Eetold hy Nellie Margaret Statler. 

Deborah 

So long as Joshua lived and was their leader, the Israel- 
ites walked in the paths of righteousness and prospered. 
But Joshua had not been dead many years before they 
forgot the promises they had given to the Lord and began 
to make friends with the Canaanites who dwelt near them 
and to invite them to their homes. The Israelites even 
came to permit their sons to marry the daughters of the 
Canaanites and their daughters to become the wives of their 
heathen enemies. Soon the children of Israel were wor- 



TYPES OF STOEIES 77 

shipping idols even as the Canaanites did. And then once 
more the Lord withdrew his favor from his people. Again 
and again they called upon Jehovah in their distress, and 
the God of their fathers would forgive their waywardness 
and show mercy unto them. But soon they would forget 
his goodness and would forsake the paths of their God. 

At last it came to pass that Jehovah allowed his people 
to be subdued at the hand of Jabin, the king of Canaan, 
and the Israelites again called to Jehovah for aid. Now 
in those days there dwelt under the palm tree which shaded 
the tomb of Deborah, the nurse of Kebekah, a prophetess 
who bore the name of Deborah also. The hosts of Jabin, 
king of the Canaanites, were led by Sisera, and these were 
bringing terror to the hearts of Israel. The woes of her 
countrymen brought sorrow to the prophetess Deborah as 
the news came to her there by the sacred tomb. To deliver 
her people she called a certain Barak to command the hosts 
of Israel, and he answered her call with these words : * ' If 
thou wilt go with me and watch the conflict, I will do even 
as thou biddest me." 

Deborah promised that she would go with him, and 
Barak made preparations to collect his army. When the 
people heard the good news concerning the gathering of 
the men of war, a new hope stirred in their breasts. Barak 
gathered together a host of ten thousand men and with 
Deborah led them to the slopes of Mount Tabor. From 
this hill Deborah watched the advancing army in the plain 
below. 

Sisera, having had news of the movements of the Israel- 



78 STOEY-TELLING 

ites, had gathered a great army, and in addition to his 
foot soldiers, he had provided himself with nine hundred 
chariots of iron and many horsemen. When he saw the 
handful of Barak's men, he urged his own host forward 
with a cry of triumph; for how could those ten thousand 
stand against his mighty army? 

As Deborah watched the advance of the two armies 
toward each other, she cried out in the hearing of the 
leaders of Israel, " Up, Barak! is not the Lord gone out 
before thee? " And the army of Barak rushed down the 
mountain slope to meet the Canaanites on the plain below. 

Suddenly a great storm arose, and the hail and rain 
beat into the faces of the advancing host of Sisera, and 
so great was the downpour of the rain that the river Kishon 
was swollen until it flooded all the plain. The land became 
a marsh, and the heavy chariots of iron began to cut up 
the sodden field, and the horses floundered in the bog. 
Sisera, seeing that his enemy was undisturbed by the storm, 
for the rain and hail beat only upon their backs, jumped 
■ from his own high chariot and fled away on foot. The 
army of the Canaanites was put to confusion, and those 
of its men who were not swallowed up by the river Kishon 
were slain by the men of Israel. 

But Barak followed Sisera, the fleeing commander, 
closely until he came to the tent of Heber. There Jael, 
Heber's wife, met Barak at the tent door. She drew back 
the curtain of the tent and said to Barak, " Behold, here 
is he whom ye seek." Barak entered, and to his great 
surprise, there he found Sisera stretched upon the tent 



TYPES OF STOEIES 79 

floor dead. Then Jael said to the Israelite, " This one 
whom thine eyes behold, Sisera the Canaanite, came to my 
tent demanding rest and refreshment. He bade me stand 
at the doorway, and if any man should come and ask if 
any one was hidden within, I must answer ' Nay.' When 
he had drunk the milk which I brought for him, he fell 
into a sleep, and as he lay sleeping I slew him. ' ' 

There was great rejoicing among the children of Israel 
because the Lord had again shown them favor and had 
overthrown their enemies. And Deborah and Barak made 
a chant of victory, praising God for His goodness to His 
people in delivering them out of the hands of the men of 
Canaan. 

' ' Hear, ye kings ; give ear, ye princes ; 
I, even I, will sing unto Jehovah ; 
I will sing praise to Jehovah, the God of Israel." 

And after this great victory of Deborah and Barak, the 
dwellers in the land of Israel had rest from war for forty 
years, remembering the goodness of Jehovah. 

— Retold J)y Nellie Margaret Statler. 

EuTH AND Naomi 

Now there was living in the land of Moab a certain 
n)an named Elimelech and his wife Naomi and his two 
sons, Mahlon and Chilion. This family had come out of 
Bethlehem-Judah, in the year of the famine, and they 
continued to live in the land of Moab, One day Eliraeleck 



80 STOEY-TELLING 

fell sick and died, and Naomi was left with her two sons 
who had married Moabitish women, one named Orpah and 
the other named Euth. 

They lived happily together in the land of Moab for 
ten years, and then Mahlon and Chilion sickened and 
died. 

Naomi, being left alone, for none of her people dwelt 
in that land, and hearing that there was again plenty 
in the land of Judah, left the land of her adoption and 
returned to the home of her own people. And with her 
went her two daughters-in-law. When they came unto 
the borders of the land of Judah, Naomi bade them fare- 
well, saying, ' ' Return, O my daughters, ' to your own 
land, and there the Lord grant you long life and hap- 
piness. ' ' 

But they answered, " Surely we may return with thee 
to thine own land." 

Naomi, weeping, kissed them, saying, " Nay, return to 
thine own people." 

Orpah kissed her mother-in-law and turned her face 
toward Moab, but Ruth tarried. 

" See, thy sister-in-law is returning to her own people 
and her own gods. Do thou likewise," insisted Naomi. 

But Ruth answered Naomi with the most beautiful 
pledge of constancy and fidelity ever uttered: " Entreat 
me not to leave thee or to return from following after 
thee ; for whither thou goest, I will go, and where thou 
lodgest, I will lodge ; thy people shall be my people, and 
thy God my God. "Where thou diest will I die, and 



TYPES OF STOEIES 81 

there will I be buried. The Lord do so to me, and more 
also if aught but death part thee and me." 

So the two journeyed together to Bethlehem. And 
when they entered the city, the people hailed' the old 
woman as Naomi. 

^' But," she said, " call me Naomi no longer, for 
Naomi means gracioms, but rather, Mara, which means 
titter, for the Lord hath dealt bitterly with me." 

So Naomi and her daughter-in-law, Ruth, dwelt to- 
gether in the land of Judah. And it was the beginning of 
the barley harvest ; and Ruth went out into the fields and 
gleaned after the reapers. It so happened that she 
entered the field of a certain Boaz, a man of wealth, who 
was of the family of Elimelech, the husband of Naomi. 
And Boaz, seeing Ruth, said to his servants, " Who is 
the maiden who follows the reapers? " 

And the men answered, " She is the Moabitish woman 
who has come out of Moab with her mother-in-law, Naomi. 
She asked that she might glean after the reapers." 

Boaz said to his men : ' ' Allow her to glean among 
the sheaves if she will, and do not reproach her. Some- 
times let fall a handful that she may gather." The 
men did as they were bidden. 

Then Boaz went to Ruth, " Welcome daughter," he 
said, " thou art welcome to glean in my fields. Go not 
into any other man's field. Glean among the sheaves, 
and when thou art thirsty, drink from the water which 
is brought for my men, and when thou art weary, rest 
thyself in my house." 



82 STOEY-TELLINa ' 

f 

Ruth gleaned all day, mnd at nightfall she had about 
three measures of barley. And she took it home to her 
mother-in-law and told her all that had befallen her that 
day. Naomi told her that Boaz was a kinsman of her 
husband and bade her do whatever Boaz told her. Thus 
Ruth and Naomi lived together in the land of Judah. 

Boaz, seeing how faithful and kind the maiden was to 
Naomi, loved her. He bought all of the land which 
Elimeleeh had owned before he had gone into the land of 
Moab, and after a time found favor in the eyes of Ruth 
the Moabitess and married her. 

In time a son was born to them, and Naomi's cup of 
happiness was full as she held the child in her arms. 
And Naomi became a nurse to the child. They called 
the child's name Obed, meaning worshiper. He became 
the father of Jesse, the father of David. 

Thus Naomi found happiness in the land of Judah with 
her daughter-in-law, Ruth, from the land of the Moabites. 
— Betold by Nellie Margaret StaUer. 

David and Jonathan 

In making the acquaintance of the people who lived 
in Biblical times, we find that they were very human, very 
much like the people of to-day. They had their joys and 
sorrows, their enemies and friends — true friends and those 
who proved false. One of the most noted friendships 
in the Bible is that of David and Jonathan. 

Jonathan's father, Saul, was King of Israel, and by 
the right of birth, Jonathan would be the next king. When 



TYPES OF STOEIES 83 

David as a youth slew the Giant Goliath and delivered 
the Israelites from the hands of the Philistines, Jonathan 
admired the shepherd lad very much, and as he grew to 
know him better, loved him as a brother, and the two 
pledged eternal friendship. As a token of his friend- 
ship, Jonathan gave to David his sword, robe and girdle. 
At that time, when Jonathan did not know that David 
was anointed of God to fill the place which by birth belonged 
to the son of Saul, there was nothing unusual about the 
friendship which the two youths formed. Later, when Saul 
came to realize that it was David who, according to the 
prophecy, should take his place, he made no attempt to 
conceal his genuine hatred of the youth and made numer- 
ous attempts to slay David. Still, Jonathan remained 
true to his old friend. 

Saul feared David, and commanded his servants and all 
his household to slay him if they had a chance. But Jon- 
athan went to David and told him of his father's command, 
and said, ' ' Hide yourself until morning, and I will go and 
speak well of you to my father, Saul." 

Jonathan went to his father, and told him of the many 
things which David had done for the kingdom and asked 
Saul why he should be killed. And Saul commanded that 
David should not be slain. So David came to the house of 
Saul again. There was another war with the Philistines, 
and once more David led the Israelitish hosts to victory. 
When Saul heard the cries of rejoicing among the people 
and the women singing, '' Saul hath slain his thousands, 
but David hath slain his ten thousands," he hardened his 



84 STOEY-TELLING 

heart against David, for he was exceedingly jealous, and 
he sought to kill the young man. 

But David escaped and fled, and Jonathan found him 
and asked him what he could do for him. David answered, 
" I shall hide myself in this field for three days. This is 
the beginning of the month, and I am expected to eat at 
the king's table. If he question you concerning me, say 
that I asked leave to go to Bethlehem, for there is now a 
yearly sacrifice for all my family. If Saul be angry, we 
may be certain that he plans evil against me, but who 
will there be to tell me? " 

Jonathan answered, " Come with me into the field." 
And they went. Then he explained his purpose. He said, 
" After I have discovered my father's feeling toward you, 
I shall come on the third day, and shall bring a boy with 
me, and I shall shoot three arrows. If my father means 
no harm toward you, I shall say to the boy, " The arrows 
are on this side, take them! " But if he plans evil against 
you, I shall say, ' ' The arrows are beyond thee, make haste 
to flee!" So the two friends parted. 

The first night when David did not come to his table, 
Saul said nothing; but the second night, when David's 
place was again empty, he said to his son, Jonathan, ' ' "What 
has become of your friend, David? " 

Jonathan made answer, " He asked leave to go to Beth- 
lehem to a feast of his family." 

Then Saul was very angry. So the next morning Jon- 
athan took a small lad out into the field with him, and he 
shot at the mark upon which the two friends had agreed 



TYPES OF STOEIES 85 

— shot three arrows. He said to the lad, " Run and get 
the arrows which I shoot. Is not the arrow beyond you? 
Make haste I tell you." The lad brought the arrows to 
Jonathan, and he sent him back to the city with them. 

When the boy was gone, David came forth. The two 
friends, vowing eternal friendship, parted, and Jonathan 
returned to the city. 

Jonathan and his father Saul were both killed in battle 
while warring against the Philistines. David was sorely 
grieved when he heard of the death of his friend. He also 
forgot how cruel Saul had been to him, and mourned alike 
over the death of Jonathan and Saul, saying, ' ' The beauty 
of Israel is slain upon thy high place, how are the mighty 
fallen. Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in 
their lives, and in their death they were not divided. They 
were swifter than eagles. They were stronger than lions. 
How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war per- 
ished. ' ' 

And David became King over Israel. 

— Retold hy Nellie Margaret Statler. 

Queen Esther and the Feast of Purim 

In the dim days, more than twenty-five hundred years 
ago, there dwelt with the Israelites who were captives by 
the river of Babylon, an orphan Jewess in the house of 
her uncle Mordecai. Now, her uncle, because of his up- 
rightness and wisdom, had been chosen from among the 
captive people as an officer of rank in the court of the King 
Ahasuerus, 



86 STOEY-TELLING 

There came a time when the king sent his messengers 
out over the kingdom to summon into his presence the 
most beautiful and the best of the maidens of the land. 
One of these, the one who should be most pleasing to the 
king, was to be chosen as his wife. Many young women 
were brought by their kinsmen or by the king's officers, and 
among these Mordecai brought and presented before the 
king, Esther, his niece, charging her not to make known 
the fact that she was of the captive people and that he 
was her uncle. Esther proved to be the most pleasing of 
all the maidens who were brought before the king, and was 
chosen as his queen. 

In time it came to pass that Mordecai, sitting at the 
gate of the city, overheard two of the chamberlains plot- 
ting against the life of the king Ahasuerus. This he told 
to Esther, his niece, when he spoke his daily words of 
council to her that day, and she reported it to the king. 
These guilty officers were hanged and a record made of 
the service rendered by Mordecai the Jew. 

The king had appointed Haman to be honored above all 
the princes and had commanded that every man should do 
him homage when he passed in the street. But Mordecai 
would bow to no man and would do homage to none but 
Jehovah. This aroused Haman 's anger against Mordecai 
and all his race. To avenge this slight he went into the 
presence of the king and said: '' There are dwelling in 
thy province, king, a people who disregard thy laws and 
thy person. Now, I pray thee, let it be commanded that 
upon a certain day every Jew shall be put to death." 



TYPES OF STOEIES 87 

When the matter had been fully set before the king by 
the wily Haman, the king gave his assent ; and the law was 
written and sealed with the king's seal and sent out to all 
the princes by messengers from Haman. Mordecai was 
amazed when the message was read in his hearing. He 
arrayed himself in sackcloth and ashes and went and sat 
at the king's gate till he could send tidings of the cruel 
decree to Queen Esther. He begged her to make suppli- 
cation to the king for her people. 

Esther directed her uncle to gather all the Jews together 
and to fast and pray for three days. " And I and my 
maidens," she said, " will do even as ye do. I will go 
into the presence of the king, then, even though that be 
contrary to the law. If the king extend his scepter toward 
me and pardon my transgression, I will plead for my 
people. If the king be angry with me, I shall die for my 
presumption. But what of that; if I perish, I perish for 
my kindred." 

At the end of the three days Esther did as she had 
promised. The king was gracious and stretched out his 
golden scepter toward her and inquired: " Why comest 
thou, Esther? What is thy request? It shall be granted 
even if it be the half of my kingdom." 

Then Esther answered, " If it please thee, King, come 
thou and bring Haman to the feast that I have prepared 
for thee." 

When the time had come for the feast both the king and 
Haman were there. They enjoyed the fair feast spread 



88 STORY-TELLING 

before them by Esther the queen, and at the end gladly 
promised to come again on the day following. 

As Haman passed out of the palace he saw Mordecai 
sitting at the gate in sackcloth and ashes, and Mordecai 
refused to bow down to him. When he had come to his 
home he called a council of his friends and told them of 
Mordecai 's actions. " But," he said, " I am in high favor 
with the King and Queen, for have I not this day been 
asked to dine with them? And I have another invitation 
for the morrow." 

His friends said to him, " Only the gallows is a fit place 
for such a man as ]\Iordecai. Cause a gallows to be made 
and to-morrow speak to the king about it." The advice 
pleased Haman greatly. 

That night the king could not sleep, and he bade his 
servants bring to him the book of the chronicles of his 
kingdom and he found therein recorded the plot of his 
two wicked chamberlains, and how Mordecai had told him 
of the thing. He asked what honor had been done to Mor- 
decai. When he found that no honor had been shown the 
man, he sent for Haman and said, ' ' What shall be done to 
the man whom the king delighteth to honor? " 

Haman, thinking he had found favor in the eyes of the 
king, answered, '' Let royal apparel be brought, and the 
man clothed therein. Set him upon one of the royal 
horses, place a crown upon his head, and bring him through 
the streets of the city." 

Then the king said, " Do thou as thou hast said even to 
Mordecai the Jew who sitteth at the gate." 



TYPES OF STOEIES 89 

Haman was much afraid, for he had caused the gallows 
to be built for Mordecai. But he did as he was bidden ; 
and after Mordecai had come to the king's gate clothed 
in royal raiment, Haman hastened to his home and told his 
friends of all that had passed. And his friends told him 
that only evil could come out of the thing for him. Then 
the messengers came to conduct Haman to the banquet 
which Esther had prepared. 

On the second day, as on the first, the king asked Esther 
what she desired, and Esther made answer, '' If it please 
thee, king, grant my petition and save me and my 
people, for we have been sold, and we are to be utterly 
destroyed. ' ' 

The king asked, " Who hath sold thee, and by whose 
hands are ye to perish? " 

Esther answered, " Our enemy, this wicked Haman." 
And the king went out into the garden to ponder these 
things in his heart. As he entered the palace again, one 
of his chamberlains said to him, " Behold the gallows, 
which Haman commanded to be made for Mordecai." 

The king commanded that they hang the wicked Haman 
on that very gallows. And on the same day the king gave 
Haman 's position and house to Mordecai, and the king 
gave the ring, which he had taken from Haman, to Mor- 
decai. 

And again did Esther speak before the king, and she 
found favor in his sight, and after touching the golden 
sceptre which he held out to her, fell down on her knees 
before him, begging him to undo the mischief which the 



90 STOEY-TELLING 

edict written bj^ the wicked Haman would do to her people. 
But the king replied, " What is written is written, and 
cannot be revoked." 

But the king called Mordecai to him and caused him to 
send messages throughout the whole kingdom, directing 
that when the thirteenth day of the twelfth month should 
be at hand whereupon all the Jews were to be killed, that 
the Jews should be permitted to gather together and defend 
themselves by destroying all those who sought to harm 
them, and to take their goods unto themselves. 

When the thirteenth day of the twelfth month was at 
hand, the Jews killed many of the Persians who sought to 
destroy them, but they touched not the spoil. The four- 
teenth day they made one of feasting and gladness. And 
they caused that day to be set aside each year as one of 
feasting, and it was called the Feast of Purim, for Haman 
had cast *' Pur " or lot against the Jews to destroy them, 
but the good Queen Esther made supplication to King 
Ahasuerus to save them. And the decree of the Feast of 
Purim was confirmed by Esther and written in the book 
of the recoids of the chronicles of the Medes and the Per- 
sians. — Retold hy Nellie Margaret Statler. 

The Prodigal Son 

Jesus tried to teach the Jews that Jehovah, their Grod, 
was a kind and just Father and that he looked upon them 
very much as if they were his children, although they were 
grown-up men and women. He taught them that God 
rejoiced in their joys and grieved over their sorrows. One 



TYPES OF STORIES 91 

day he was trying to make it clear to his hearers that, 
while Jehovah was displeased with those who did wrong, 
he was as ready to forgive those who turned away from 
their sins as a father whose son had forsaken his wicked 
life and had come home with a confession of his unworthi- 
ness and a determination to change his ways. To make 
this plain to them he told this story: 

" A certain man had two sons," he began, speaking 
earnestly, but quietly and deliberately to the multitude that 
had gathered about him in the open space on the hillside. 
" And the younger of them said to the father, ' Father, 
could you not give me now the portion of thy estate that 
will in time fall to me ? ' And the father was willing and 
so divided unto his sons all that he owned, giving to the 
elder the permanent property, and to the younger, in 
money, about half as much as the value of the portion 
which was to be held by the elder — as was the custom. 

'' And not many days after, the younger son gathered 
all together and took his journey into a far country. There 
he wasted all that he had in riotous living. Now, when he 
had foolishly spent all, there arose a mighty famine in the 
land; and he began to be in want. Then he thought that 
he could call upon the companions with whom he had asso- 
ciated while he was wasting his money. But now that 
they had stripped him of all that he had, they deserted him. 

At last in desperation he went and hired himself to a 
citizen of that land to do any kind of menial service. The 
farmer sent the once rich young man into his fields to 
herd and feed his swine. You can imagine how degraded 



92 STOEY-TELLING 

he felt. He had been accustomed to the best in food and 
raiment. And now he had fallen to the very lowest place 
a proud young Jew could imagine — a swineherd 's. All 
day long he must toil to keep before these animals, regarded 
by all Jews as unclean beasts, a plentiful supply of pods 
of the Carob tree. The swine had all they could eat, but 
he was so hungry that he would fain have eaten his fill 
of the coarse foods that the swine devoured. But no man 
gave unto him. 

Reflecting upon his sad state and his own folly that had 
brought him to what he was, he began to see what a fool 
he had been. His better nature triumphed, and he came 
to himself and said: " How many, hired servants of my 
father have bread enough and to spare, and I must perish 
with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and will 
say unto him, ' Father, I have sinned against heaven, and 
in thy sight; I am no more worthy to be called thy son. 
Make me one of thy hired servants.' " 

Then he arose and journeyed from that far country 
back to his native land. And while he was yet afar off, 
the father, who had been hoping for his son's return, and 
watching for him, saw him coming and was moved with 
compassion. He ran to meet the young man and fell on 
his neck and kissed him. But the son remembered how 
low he had fallen and how foolish he had been, and said 
unto him, " Father, I have sinned against heaven and in 
thy sight; I am no more worthy to be called thy son." 

But the father would not have it so. As soon as they 
were near enough to the house, he called the servants. 



TYPES OF STORIES 93 

'* Bring fortli quickly," he commanded, " the best robe, 
and put it on him ; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes 
on his feet ; and bring the fatted calf and kill it. Let us 
eat and make merry; for this my son was as if dead to 
me, and now that he has come home, he is alive again. 
He was lost and now is found. ' ' 

All the household began to rejoice and make merry. 
Everyone was glad with the aged father because of the 
return and repentance of the wayward son. But a few 
began to wonder how the elder son would take it, when he 
came in from the distant fields. 

When the elder son approached the house near the close 
of the day, he was astonished at the sounds of music and 
dancing. He called to him one of the servants and inquired 
what these things might be. The servant said, " Thy 
brother has come home; and thy father hath killed the 
fatted calf, because he hath received him safe and sound. ' ' 

Now, the elder son was angry when he heard this, and 
would not go in to join the merry-makers. But the father 
came out to him and entreated him. Still angry, he an- 
swered and said to his father, ' ' Lo, these many years have 
I served thee, and I have never transgressed a single com- 
mandment of thine. And yet thou never gavest me so 
much as kid with which I might make merry with my 
friends. But when this thy son came, the one who has 
wasted all that thou gavest him, and wasted it, too, in fool- 
ish and sinful living, thou killedst for him the fatted calf, 
the best we have." 

" My son," explained the father with great patience. 



94 STOEY-TELLINa 

'' thou art ever with me, and all that I have will come 
into thy possession when I am gone. Now thy brother has 
come home. He was to me as if dead, and now he is alive 
again. He was lost, and now he is found. It was meet 
that we make merry and be glad." 

And now the elder brother saw how just his father had 
been to him and how generous and forgiving to the younger 
son, and he, too, was glad. Then with his father he went 
in and welcomed his brother home and joined the rest in 
making merry with feasting and music and dancing. 

— Retold hy Nellie Margaret Statler. 

Helping the Mastee * 

Where were all the people going? Such crowds passed 
quickly through the streets, talking earnestly about some- 
thing. 

" Haste thee, Sarah, or we may be too late to see the 
wonderful things! " 

" Tell us again, Samuel, what saw ye the Great One 
do? " 

" When we find him, think you that he will help our 
Rachel? " 

So they talked, as men, women and children passed down 
the street. 

The whole town seemed to be interested in this strange 
journey. A little lad broke through the crowd and pushed 
open the door of a small house. 

* Reprinted from the Storytellers' Magazine, September, 1913. 



TYPES OF STOEIES 95 

" Mother, may I go? Wilt thou give me some lunch? 
All the town goes to-day out to the edge of the desert to 
see such wonderful things ! " 

The mother looked lovingly into her boy's eager face. 
' ' Yes, my son ; see, here is thy lunch, fresh barley bread, 
and fish just caught from the lake. Take thy basket, and 
God go with thee. ' ' 

A long, hot, dusty walk, but what of that? The won- 
derful things were to come. 

' ' On top of that grassy slope, see you that knot of men ? 
There he is. ' ' 

The crowd pressed eagerly on, and such a strange crowd. 
The blind stretched out their hands to be led. The deaf 
kept eyes fixed on the hill. Those who carried dear ones 
in litters took up anew their heavy burden. The lame 
pressed painfully forward. The lepers followed afar off. 

Hush! through the clear air comes the music of His 
voice. 

" Come unto Me, come unto Me ye weary and heavy 
laden," and the burdened crowd passed on up the hill. 

Right in the front ran our little lad, full of a boy's 
delight in the wonders to be seen and heard. At the side 
of the '* Great One "he stood ; he joined with delight in the 
shouts of joy as the blind first opened their eyes to the 
glorious light, the deaf answered the questions of their 
friends, the lame rose to their feet, leaping and walking, 
the sick took up their beds and walked, and the lepers 
bowed to the ground at the feet of the ' ' Great One, ' ' and 
rose clean and whole. 



96 STOEY-TELLING 

Oh ! the gladness of rejoicing, the tears of happiness on 
the faces of friends and loved ones ! 

And then the stories the ' ' Great One ' ' told — of the 
birds and the flowers, the animals and the jewels. Earnestly 
the little lad listened and wondered. 

Hour after hour passed. Finally the " Great One " 
turned to his special friends. 

" I have compassion on the multitude — give them to 
eat! " 

" Give them to eat! " 

" Two hundred pennyworth of bread is not enough that 
each may have a mouthful ! " 

At these words the lad, eager to help, to give all he had, 
stretched out his little lunch basket that his mother had 
given him. 

One of the special friends named Andrew stopped and 
opened the basket. 

" Master," he called, " there is a little lad here who 
hath five barley loaves and two small fishes. ' ' 

" But," he added, with a shrug of his shoulders, " what 
are they amongst so many ? ' ' 

The " Great One " smiled down on the little lad, and 
He turned with outstretched hand, 

" Bring them hither to Me." 

Was it possible his poor little offering would be ac- 
cepted ? 

With a radiant face the lad laid down his basket at the 
feet of the Master. 



TYPES OF STOEIES 97 

" Bid the men sit down," the quiet voice commanded. 

Like a large flock of birds the great company settled down 
upon the grassy hillside. Fifty, and fifty, and fifty; in 
row after row. Men, women, and little children, crowds 
of little children. 

Closely our little lad watched to see what the " Great 
One " would do. "What could He do, even He, with five 
little rolls and two tiny fish, hardly enough for one hungry 
boy. 

The hands of the ' ' Great One ' ' were outstretched, raised 
to heaven. Every head was bowed, and a deep silence 
passed through that great company; for a blessing was 
asked from God above over the little lad 's bread and fish. 

And then what a marvelous wonder took place ! Basket 
after basket was filled and handed to the special friends ! 
Back and forth they went, up and down the rows of people, 
urging every one to take all he required. 

When a basket was empty, back went the carrier to the 
' ' Great One, ' ' and again it was filled ! 

Could it be possible? Five small loaves and two wee 
fish? 

With joy the little lad helped carry back and forth 
the baskets. Over and over he kept repeating, " My lunch 
enough for five thousand people! " His little heart beat 
so fast with joy and pride that he could hardly breathe. 
For was he not permitted to help the ' ' Great One ! ' ' 

Had not his missionary offering — all he had to give — 
been accepted and magnified a thousand fold ! 



98 STORY-TELLlNa 

' ' Gather up all the fragments ; let nothing be lost. ' ' 

And again the baskets, this time full of broken pieces, 
were laid at the feet of the " Great One." 

The people bowed their heads in awe and wonder, and 
then leaped to their feet shouting, ' ' This is the prophet, the 
' Great One;' let us make Him our King! " 

But the Master had disappeared. 

"And oh! Mother," exclaimed our lad that night, as 
he told the wonderful story, ' ' He allowed me to help Him, 
He accepted my offering, and I am only a little boy." 

— Eveleen Harrison. 

Saul 's Journey to Damascus 

There lived in Jerusalem a young man of Tarsus named 
Saul, who was well versed in the knowledge of the law 
of the land. If he lived at the present time, he would be 
called a lawyer. Now there were certain people living at 
that time who did all they could to make life unbearable 
for the followers of Jesus. A man named Stephen, who 
had been preaching the doctrines of the Christ, had been 
stoned by some of these people, and Saul had stood by 
and held the garments of the men who stoned Stephen to 
death. 

Now Saul had heard that a great many of these Naz- 
arenes, or followers of Jesus, had gone to the city of Damas- 
cus in Syria, and he resolved to drive them from their 
refuge. Having gathered together his attendants and hav- 
ing received papers from the governor authorizing him to 



TYPES OF STOKIES 99 

persecute the Nazarenes and make prisoners of them, he 
set out on his journey. 

Damascus was a long way from Jerusalem — a hundred 
and forty miles. Saul was anxious to arrive in Damascus 
in as short a time as possible, so that he might begin his 
persecutions of the Nazarenes. The road was rough and 
the noonday sun extremely hot, but Saul insisted that his 
party should push on, even though they were very weary. 

They were nearing Damascus. They could see the trees 
in the orchards laden with fruit. And then an exceedingly 
bright light shone upon their path. The sun seemed bright 
no longer. The whole party fell upon their faces on the 
ground, but to Saul the light meant something more. He 
heard a voice out of the brightness, which said to him 
again and again, ' ' Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me ? ' ' 

Saul answered, ' ' Who art thou, Lord ? ' ' And the voice 
replied, " I am Jesus of Nazareth, whom thou persecut- 
est! " 

Then the heavens opened, and Saul saw the Christ stand- 
ing at the right hand of Grod. Saul asked in great humil- 
ity, " What shall I do. Lord? " And from above these 
words came to him, " Arise, and go into Damascus, and 
there it shall be told thee of all things which are appointed 
for thee to do." 

That was all. The bright light disappeared and only 
the hot beams of the noonday sun remained, and there only 
a short distance away lay Damascus, cool and serene. All 
remained the same except Saul. The Light which had 
opened the eyes of his soul had blinded the eyes of his 



100 STORY-TELLINa 

body. He arose in obedience to the command, but he could 
not see the cooling shade of Damascus which had beckoned 
to him so invitingly a few moments before. One of his 
attendants had to lead him by the hand ; and thus he entered 
Damascus, a changed man, whose arrogant authority over 
the Nazarenes had vanished completely. For three days 
Saul remained thus, doing nothing, but thinking. 

Now there lived in Damascus a disciple of the Christ 
named Ananias. Ananias had a vision, and in it he heard 
the voice of the Lord calling to him and saying, " Arise, 
and go into the street which is called Straight and inquire 
in the house of Judas for one called Saul of Tarsus. For 
behold he prayeth and hath seen in a vision a man named 
Ananias coming in and putting his hand on him that he 
might receive his sight." 

Ananias made answer, " Lord, I have heard by many 
of this man, how much evil he hath done to Thy saints in 
Jerusalem, and here he hath authority from the chief 
priests to bind all that call upon Thy Name. ' ' 

But the voice answered and said, " Go thy way, for he 
is a chosen vessel unto Me to bear My name before the 
Gentiles and kings and the children of Israel, for I will 
shew him how great things he must suffer for My Name's 
sake." 

Ananias did as the voice had commanded, even though 
he could not understand Saul 's change of heart. Saul him- 
self tells us of Ananias ' visit to him : ' ' He said unto me, 
' Brother Saul ! receive thy sight ! ' And the same hour I 
looked upon him. And he said, ' The God of our Fathers 



TYPES OF HTOEIES 101 

hath chosen thee that thou shouldst hear the Voice of His 
Mouth, for thou shalt be His witness unto all men, of what 
thou hast seen and heard. And now, why tarriest thou? 
Arise and be baptized ! "Wash away thy sins and call on 
the name of the Lord ! ' ' 

After Saul had been baptized, he spent many days in 
Damascus learning from the disciples. Then he went into 
the temple and boldly preached the doctrines of the Christ. 
Great was the astonishment of the people, for they could 
hardly believe that this was the same man whO' had started 
from Jerusalem to persecute the Nazarenes if? Damascus. 

And after his transformation Saul changed his name to 
Paul, so that nothing should be left to remind him of his 
old life. And after this Paul endured many persecutions 
for the sake of the Master whom he had first persecuted. 
^Retold hy Nellie Margaret Statler. 



CHAPTER IV 

USES OF THE STORY IN THE SCHOOLROOM 

One of the best schoolroom uses of the stoiy is to stim- 
ulate in the child a love and appreciation for good liter- 
ature. Following closely the love of legendary tales, we 
find the child enjoying, if given a taste for them, the his- 
torical novels of Scott and the adventure stories of Steven- 
son. Blackmore's " Lorna Doone " is a favorite with 
seventh and eighth grade children. Then a little later some 
of Dicken's stories will be read with great enjoyment. If 
a single incident from any of these stories is told, the 
children may be stimulated to read the rest of the story 
for themselves in order to satisfy themselves concerning 
the fate of a certain character or the outcome of the story. 

If a cycle of stories is to be used, the oral telling may be 
used as the foundation for the English lesson. From the 
story let the child select one theme or thread for his com- 
position lesson and write a paragraph. Let him write a 
character sketch of David Copperfield, Aunt Betsy Trot- 
wood, or John Ridd. Other devices for making English 
material out of the stories will suggest themselves. A 
young writer may get his first inspiration through contact 
with an anthgrr he admires and loves. 

The story which follows was written by a seventh grade 

102 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 103 

boy and printed in " The Worry Knot," a paper published 
monthly by the seventh' and eighth grade children of the 
Colorado State Teachers' College Training School. This 
paper is printed by the boys of the seventh grade printing 
class and edited by the girls of the seventh and eighth 
grades. 

A Trip Into the Rocky Mountains * 

It was early in the morning. The birds were singing, 
the river roaring in front of the cabin, and the pure air of 
the mountains rustled the aspens. The smell of the pines 
and cedars, which grew in abundance on the mountains, 
was in the air. The trickling of the spring was heard as 
it wound its way through the grove of aspens and willows 
which grew near. 

From out of the aspens there came the merry chick-a- 
dee-dee, and the harsh mew of the catbird. 

I jumped up and shivering put on my clothes. Then I 
ran out and built the fire in the little wood stove, and 
while mother was cooking breakfast I took my fishing pole 
apart and got ready for a trip over the mountain to a 
river called the Laramie. I ate a hurried breakfast and 
started out. I walked down to the fence, climbed over it, 
and started up the road. 

After I had gone about a mile I turned away from the 
road and started up the mountain, and after a while I 
struck the trail. It was a trail made by men who were 

* This story is one of a number of original stories inspired by 
Enos Mills' book^ " Wild Life in the Rockies." 



104 STOEY-TELLING 

making a tunnel to run water from the Laramie into the 
Poudre. The trail was used by them before it was finished 
to go from one end to the other. The tunnel was now 
finished and the trail nearly forgotten. 

After I had gone about two miles up, I came to the top 
and stopped to rest. I had about three more miles to walk 
on the top (which was a long level stretch after you had 
gone up) and then go down on the other side, which was 
almost impassable. 

After I had rested awhile, I started again and came to 
the tall pines. These were not more than a foot at the 
base, but about one hundred feet straight up. 

As I went through these, the big gray squirrels chattered 
from the tops of the trees, and a little cotton-tail hopped 
up and scurried away in front of me. 

Then I came all at once upon an old logging camp that 
had been there for more than sixty years, and except for 
the sod roofs that had fallen in was none the worse for 
wear. I went closer to the logging camp to make an 
examination. There were six cabins — one big long one for 
the dining room. It had a large table made of logs, in the 
center, and a large fireplace. These cabins were made all 
of wood, even the fireplaces, and for nails they used wooden 
pegs. The logging men were very skillful with the axe, 
and everything was hewn out of logs. 

I entered one of the smaller cabins which, like the other 
four, had been used as a bunk house. Bach had a wooden 
fireplace and wooden bunks nailed against the walls one 
over the other. All the nails and everything were wooden^ 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 105 

In the last of these cabins that I went into I saw a por- 
cupine scramble. 

I started on my way after eating some huckleberries 
which grew near and taking a drink from the stream which 
ran by the cabins. 

The way now was thickly covered with high flowers and 
weeds, and more than once I stumbled over the roots hidden 
by them. I walked until I came to an opening where a 
brook ran, and ate my lunch. As I was eating I heard a 
whir-rr come from some pines and at once I knew it was 
grouse. I got on my hands and knees and .crept stealthily 
forward through the pines, when all at once I parted the 
bushes and there in front of me was a fine male grouse. 

He was standing on a stump. Every once in a while he 
would utter a shrill chirp, stretch his neck and look around ; 
then he would beat his wings against the stump. So fast 
would his wings go that you could not see them. All 
at once he hopped down and out of sight. I got up and 
ran along, when suddenly the old male and three others 
whirred up and flew away. 

Then I started again and came to some marshy land 
where the deer came to feed, as I could see by the numer- 
ous fresh tracks which were printed in the soft mud. Some 
were the tracks of a large buck and the others tracks of a 
doe and a fawn. Part of the way it was so muddy you had 
to walk the log, and if you slipped you would fall in the 
water and mud up to your knees. After I had passed this, 
I saw ahead of me the end of the top of the mountain. 
When I got there the view alone was worth coming for. 



106 STOEY-TELLINa 

Down below was the Laramie river, running snake-like 
through the many willows that nearly covered the valley. 
Above, away on the other side above timberline, rose the 
great snowy range up to the clouds. On the right you 
could look into Wyoming. It seemed far away, and it was 
over a hundred miles. On the left was the Laramie river 
and the snowy range running farther and farther into the 
Rockies. 

But now came the proposition of going down. It was 
very steep, so steep that when you descended, you touch 
the part behind you with your shoulders. 

I came soon to large boulders where I had to jump from 
one to another. At last I reached the bottom and put my 
pole together. While I was doing this a little martin ran 
over a fallen pine, stood up on his hind feet, and watched 
me with interest. He had probably never seen man before, 
for they are usually very timid and are easily frightened. 
This little animal is very scarce, for they are killed for the 
fur. It had the appearance of the weasel, but was not 
quite so long and slender. Its face was not so shrewd 
and blood-thirsty as the weasel's, but it was a very pretty 
animal. Its color was brown, with a white vest, and it 
was very quick. As I stood looking at it, it went so 
quickly that I did not see it go. 

Then I went up stream until I came to some large pools 
or beaver dams. I walked out on one of these and made a 
cast. As my fly floated down stream there was a flash, 
jerk, and there was a good-sized Eastern Brook on the 
bank. After killing it I cast again with no results. 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 107 

Then I drew out more line and cast farther out. There 
was another flash, but I did not pull soon enough, and the 
fish was lost. I east again and again, but with no results, 
and was going toward the bank when my pole was almost 
jerked out of my hand, and after a fight I landed the 
largest one I caught that day. After I had caught a num- 
ber of fish I unjointed my pole and started up again. It 
was about two o'clock in the afternoon. 

This time when I reached the middle of the top of the 
mountain where the tall pines were, I turned to my left and 
went away from the path. I followed along the top of the 
mountain in the very wilderness, where only animals, prob- 
ably, had been before ; then I turned down the mountain 
again and came to the bottom about a quarter of a mile 
from the cabin. 

I reached the cabin just as the sun was setting over the 
mountain I had just climbed, making the sky a brilliant 
red and reflecting cloud to cloud, and opened the door to 
flnd a hot supper waiting for me and a cheerful flre in 
the fireplace. — Lawrence Clark. 

Story-telling is a failure if the teller receives no response 
from the children. This is true of any story or kind of 
story that you may tell. If the tale is told merely for fun, 
you feel that your efforts have been in vain if your audi- 
ence has not followed you closely enough to see the humor, 
or if your tale has failed to relax your audience. 

Let us turn for a moment to the more serious stories, 
taking for example, " The Vision of Anton the Clock 



108 STOEY-TELLINa 

Maker." What is the object in telling this story to older 
children 1 It is a good story for them to know. Yes, but to 
be more specific, the child in the seventh or eighth grade 
may be having dreams and visions of what he wishes to do 
when he goes out into the world. Maybe he has been 
laughed at by some of the older members of the family; 
maybe he has been too timid even to voice his hopes. Would 
the experience of Anton have any place in the life of that 
child ? Most certainly it would. In the first place he could 
see what the vision did for the clockmaker, and in turn how 
it benefited the whole community. Then, also, the listener 
could rightly assume that the teller believed her tale, and 
that he had found a friend who would not laugh at his 
dreams and ambitions in the future. 

The story of ' ' ]\Ierry Twinkle and the Dwarf, ' ' a differ- 
ent type of story, which would appeal to children in about 
the fifth or sixth grade, is a good story to tell when these 
children begin to feel that money is the most important 
thing in the world. This is a fairy story, and the children 
realize that it is not true, but the truth which it portrays 
is presented in such a manner that the child takes the 
truth for what it is worth to him. For how much would 
you sell your smile, your happy disposition, and your 
ability to make other people happy? 

The children should be encouraged to retell stories which 
have been told to them ; they should prepare stories of their 
own selection to tell for the rest of the class. 

So much for the appeal of the story to individuals. In 
the schoolroom the problem is usually that of keeping the 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 109 

whole group interested. How can we utilize the story and 
gain response from the social whole? A very interesting 
and instructive way of utilizing the story is in dramatiza- 
tion. While preparing this kind of work the child receives 
training in (1) organization of material, for he must have 
the story well in mind and the points must be in logical 
order before he even begins his work; (2) in self-expres- 
sion; (3) in composition. In working out a piece of 
dramatization the child is given practice in both bodily and 
mental expression. The teacher may direct the drama- 
tization of a certain story or group of stories, but each 
child should be encouraged to contribute something to the 
composition of the whole. The different speeches may be 
considered as to their merits while the dramatization is in 
the course of construction. Or each child may be allowed 
to write his own version, after which the best parts in 
each pupil's work should be selected and put together to 
make the one whole. The objection to the former plan is 
that the work is apt to fall to two or three pupils. An 
objection to the second plan might be that the drama- 
tization made up from the versions of perhaps twenty 
people would not be quite so smooth or well organized as 
the other. However, the fact that each child has had 
something to do with the production overbalances the 
objection to the second plan. 

After the dramatization has been completed, the pres- 
entation offers a variety of work for both the hoys and the 
girls. Besides those people who interpret the play, the boys 
are given a chance to conduct or manage the stage setting 



110 STOEY-TELLINO- 

and scenery. Much of the scenery has to be constructed. 
This scene-making and stage carpentry provide interest- 
ing and useful work for pupils in manual training. The 
girls are given an opportunity to make costumes. Most 
of the work is left to the children. Their suggestions are 
followed wherever possible. 

The piece following is the dramatization contributed by 
Wilma Hamilton in the sixth grade for the presentation of 
the story of the Landing of the Pilgrims and the Courtship 
of John Alden and Priscilla. The dramatization is the 
work of a child and is here presented as she wrote it. To 
work it over and refine it would defeat our present pur- 
pose, which is to show what children actually do in drama- 
tizing a story, and not to idealize it beyond the range of 
possibility. 

The Landing of the Pilgrims 

SCENE I 

Scenery: Trees, a large rock, Indians peering at the 
Pilgrims from behind trees. 

Characters : Miles Standish, John Alden, Elder Brew- 
ster, Governor Carver and other men, women. 

Elder Brewster. Let us now give thanks to God, my 
people, for bringing us safely to land. (All kneel down and 
pray.) (Men begin building fires. Women help to bring 
things, such as food and clothing, from the ship.) 

Miles Standish. Come, my friends, let us now go and 
look for a place to build our homes. 



THE STORY IN THE SCHOOLROOM m 

First Man, Oh, yes, let's do. We might get warmed 
up by walking. Come on. (Men leave.) 

First Maidem-. Oh, how cold it is. 

Secmid Maiden. Yes, and to arrive in the new world on 
such a day. 

Elder Brewster. Yes, yes, my children, but God has 
willed it that way. 

Curtain 



SCENE II 

Treaty with Indians 



Time: The next spring. 

Scenery: Homes of white men. Women washing clothes, 
and children playing games together. 

(A dusky stranger named Samoset, an Indian, enters 
the village.) 

Samoset. Welcome, Englishmen. A heap big chief liv- 
ing at Mount Hope to come here after me to see you; he 
good chief, Massasoit, he want peace. (Indian goes. The 
Pilgrims then hear wild whooping and yelling. They see 
in the far distance Indians approaching.) 

Third Maiden (shading her eyes with her hands). Oh, I 
think he is coming now. See ! ( She points in direction of 
approaching Indians.) 

F mirth Maiden. What if they are hostile to us? 

Pilgrim Man. Perhaps it is the chief. Don't you re- 
member what Samoset said about his coming for peace. 



112 STORY-TELLING 

(He shades his eyes.) Why, yes, I do believe it is he. 
(Enter Massasoit and Indians.) 

Pilgrims. Why, it's Massasoit. (Governor Carver and 
Massasoit smoke peace pipe.) 

Governor Carver. Greetings, Massasoit. 

Massasoit (grunts). Greetings. Me come for peace for 
fifty years. You agree? 

Governor Carver. Yes, my friends, I agree. (Governor 
Carver and Massasoit shake hands.) 

All Pilgrims. " Hurrah for Governor Carver and Mas- 
sasoit! " 

Curtain 

SCENE III 

Miles Standish and John Alden ' 

Time: March. 

Place: New World, America. 

Scenery. Interior of house, chair, table, fireplace, 
weapons on wall, books on shelf, small stand, the table by 
window, with old-time ink bottle. 

Stage Directions. (Miles Standish pacing floor. John 
Alden writing at desk. Miles stops walking.) 

Miles S. John, see those weapons on the wall. See how 
they shine? See that breast plate? I have worn it for 
many years. They shine because I have cared for them 
myself and have had no other do it. 

John A. Yes, Miles, the breastplate has saved you from 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLROOM II3 

being killed many a time. (Miles takes book of Caesar 
down from shelf, reads awhile, and then shuts it.) 

Miles 8. Wasn 't Caesar a wonderful man ? Just think, 
he snatched a sword from one of his men, led the great 
army and won. (Standish goes on reading, suddenly gets 
up and goes to the door.) Over on yonder hill lies my 
wife. Rose. She was the first to die from the great disease 
we had. I don't think a man should live alone, John. I 
have something very important to tell you when you finish 
your writing. 

John. Oh, I'm always ready to listen to you. Miles. 

Milm. John, I want you to go to the maiden, Priscilla, 
and tell her I offer her the hand and heart of a soldier. 
I'm too much of a coward to do it myself. 

John Alden. Yes, but one should always do things for 
himself ; then they will always be done right and well. 

Miles. "Will you? (John Alden thinks for a minute, 
goes over to fireplace and gazes in and then turns to Miles. ) 

John. I will. (Goes to Miles and shakes hands; then 
turns and goes out the door.) 

Curtain 

SCENE IV 

John Alden and Peiscilla 

Scen&ry: Interior of house, fireplace and spinning wheel, 
table with books on it, chair by spinning wheel, cat dozing 
by chair. Priscilla in chair spinning flax. Priscilla sing- 



114 STOEY-TELLING 

ing out of psalm book and petting eat every once in awhile. 
(Enter John Alden, who bows low to Priscilla.) 

John. Good morning, Priscilla. 

Priscilla. Good morning, John. 

Johii. I have come a wooing. (Ahem.) (Pause.) My 
friend, Miles Standish, wishes to (ahem) marry you. 

Priscilla. And sent you? 

John. Yes, you know he is such a brave man, and so 
kind. If he were not in the village, we would have been 
captured by the Indians long ago ; and I am sure you would 
like—. 

Priscilla (interrupts). "Why don't you speak for your- 
self, John? 

Joh7i A. Oh, I, why, I must be going. You see. — Good- 
bye. (Priscilla laughs and begins to sing. John goes.) 

Curtain 



SCENE V 
Same as Scene III 



(Enter John Alden.) 

Miles S. Why, John, you have been gone a long time. 
Come and sit down and tell me all that has happened. 

John A. When I told Priscilla your message, she asked 
why you had sent me. Then I told her you were so brave 
and kind, but she said, " Why don't you speak for your- 
self, John? " 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 115 

Miles 8. (jumping up in anger). Ah, John, you have 
betrayed me. There shall be nothing but hatred between 
us from now on. 

Messenger (entering). Captain, the Indians are coming. 

Miles S. (puts on armor and leaves without saying good- 
bye to John Alden.) 

Curtain 

SCENE VI 

Fight v^ith the Indians 

Scenery: Trees and rocks. 

Characters: Miles Standish and Pilgrim men, Indians. 
Indians peering from behind trees. 

Indian. Give us furs and powder. 

Miles S. No, we'll give you this Bible. 

Indian. Ah, I can see by the fiery eyes of the captain 
that he is angry, but Watawamat is not afraid. No. See 
this dagger ? I have another at home just like it. 

Second Indian. Yes, by and by it shall see, it shall eat, 
but it shall speak not. You are the mighty captain sent to 
destroy us. You are a little man. You should work with 
the women. 

Miles. (Angrily jumps forth and kills the two Indians.) 

Third Indian. Ah, the Indians call you a little man. 
Yes, but yet you have been big enough to lay these speech- 
less before you. 

Curtain 



116 STOEY-TELLING 

SCENE VII 

Wedding of Priscilla and John. Return of Miles S. 

Scenery: Interior of church. Elder Brewster marrying 
Priscilla and John Alden. 

Characters : Pilgrims, Elder Brewster, Priscilla and John 
Alden, Miles Standish. 

Pilgrim Maiden. Congratulations, Priscilla. 

Pilgrim Ma/)i. Congratulations, John. 

(All shake hands with John and Priscilla.) 

(Enter Miles Standish. All start and look at Miles S. 
He steps forth and lays his hand on John.) 

Miles S. Congratulations, John and Priscilla. Forgive 
me. One should do things for himself and not have others 
do them for him; then he would most likely get what he 
seeks. (All cheer and start off stage.) Now we shall have 
a feast, shall we not my friends? 

Maiden. Yes, let's do. 

All. Yes, Hurray for John Alden and Priscilla, and also 
for Miles Standish. 

Curtain 

End. 

Saint Nicholas * 

Of all the saints that little children love is there any one 
to compare with Santa Claus ? The very sound of his name 
has magic in it, and calls up visions of well-filled stockings, 

* Used by permission of Miss Amy Steedman and Messrs. T. C. 
and E. C. Jack. From " In God's Garden." Copyrighted. 



THE STORY IN THE SCHOOLROOM II7 

with the presents we particularly want peeping over the 
top, or hanging out at the side, too big to go into the largest 
sock. Besides, there is something so mysterious and excit- 
ing about Santa Claus, for no one seems to have ever seen 
him. But we picture him to ourselves as an old man with 
a white beard, whose favorite way of coming into our rooms 
is down the chimney, bringing gifts for the good children 
and punishments for the bad. 

Yet this Santa Claus, in whose name the presents come 
to us at Christmas time, is a very real saint, and we can 
learn a great deal about him, only we must remember that 
his true name is Saint Nicholas. Perhaps the little children, 
who used to talk of him long ago, found Saint Nicholas too 
difficult to say, and so called him their dear Santa Claus. 
But we learn, as we grow older, that Nicholas is his true 
name, and that he is a real person who lived long years 
ago, far away in the East. 

The father and mother of Nicholas were noble and very 
rich, but what they wanted most of all was to have a son. 

They thought there was no one like their boy. But alas, 
while he was still a child, a terrible plague swept over the 
country, and his father and mother died, leaving him quite 
alone. 

All the great riches which his father had possessed were 
left to Nicholas, and among other things he inherited three 
bars of gold. These golden bars were his greatest treasure, 
and he thought more of them than all the other riches he 
possessed. 

Now in the town where Nicholas lived there dwelt a 



118 STOEY-TELLINa 

nobleman with three daughters. They had once been very 
rich, but great misfortunes had overtaken the father, and 
now they were all so poor they had scarcely enough to 
live upon. 

At last a day came when there was not even bread enough 
to eat, and the daughters said to their father : 

' ' Let us go out into the streets and beg, or do anything 
to get a little money, that we may not starve. ' ' 

But the father answered : 

" Not to-night. I cannot bear to think of it. Wait at 
least until to-morrow. Something may happen to save my 
daughters from such disgrace." 

Now, just as they were talking together, Nicholas hap- 
pened to be passing, and as the window was open he heard 
all that the poor father said. He tried to plan how it would 
be possible to help them. He knew they would be much 
too proud to take money from him, so he had to think of 
some other way. Then he remembered his golden bars, 
and that very night he took one of them and went secretly 
to the nobleman's house, hoping to give the treasure with- 
out letting the father or daughers know who brought it. 

To his joy Nicholas discovered that a little window had 
been left open, and by standing on tiptoe he could just 
reach it. So he lifted the golden bar and slipped it 
through the window, never waiting to hear what became of 
it, lest one should see him. (And now do you see the reason 
why the visits of Santa Claus are so mysterious?)' 

Inside the house the poor father sat sorrowfully watch- 
ing^ while his children slept. Suddenly something fell at 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 119 

his feet, and to his amazement and joy, he found it was a 
bar of pure gold. 

" My child," he cried, as he showed his eldest daughter 
the shining gold, " God has heard my prayer and has sent 
this from heaven. Now we shall have enough and to spare. 
Call your sisters that we may rejoice together, and I will 
go instantly and change this treasure. ' ' 

The precious golden bar was soon sold to a money- 
changer, who gave so much for it that the family was 
able to live in comfort and have all that they needed. And 
not only was there enough to live upon, but so much was 
over that the father gave his eldest daughter a large dowry, 
and very soon she was happily married. 

When Nicholas saw how much happiness his golden bar 
had brought to the poor nobleman, he determined that the 
second daughter should have a dowry too. So he went as 
before and found the little window again open, and was 
able to throw in the second golden bar as he had done the 
first. This time the father was dreaming happily, and did 
not find the treasure until he awoke in the morning. Soon 
afterwards the second daughter had her dowry and was 
married too. 

The father now began to think that, after all, it was not 
usual for golden bars to fall from heaven, and he wondered 
if by any chance human hands had. placed them in his room. 
The more he thought of it the stranger it seemed, and he 
made up his mind to keep watch every night, in case 
another golden bar should be sent as a portion for his 
youngest daughter. 



120 STOEY-TELLING 

And so when Nicholas went the third time and dropped 
the last bar through the little window, the father came 
quickly out, and before Nicholas had time to hide, caught 
him by his cloak. 

" Nicholas," he cried, " is it thou who hast helped us 
in our need? Why didst thou hide thyself? " And then 
he fell on his knees and began to kiss the hands that had 
helped him so graciously. 

But Nicholas bade him stand up and give thanks to God 
instead, warning him to tell no one the story of the golden 
bars. 

This was only one of the many kind acts Nicholas loved 
to do, and it was no wonder that he was beloved by all 
who knew him. 

Soon afterwards Nicholas made up his mind to enter 
God's service as a priest. He longed above all things to 
leave the world and live as a hermit in the desert, but 
God came to him in a vision and told him he must stay in 
the crowded cities and do his work among the people. Still 
his desire to see the deserts and the hermits who lived there 
was so great that he went off on a journey to Egypt and 
the Holy Land. But remembering what God had bade him 
do, he did not stay there, but returned to his own country. 

On the way home, a terrific storm arose, and it seemed 
as if the ship he was in must be lost. The sailors could 
do nothing, and great waves dashed over the deck, filling 
the ship with water. But just as all had given up hope, 
Nicholas knelt and prayed to God to save them, and imme- 
diately a calm fell upon the angry sea. 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 121 

Thus Nicholas returned home in safety, and went to live 
in the city of Myra. His ways were so quiet and humble 
that no one knew much about him, until it came to pass 
one day that the Archbishop of Myra died. Then all the 
priests met to choosg another archbishop, and it was made 
known to them by a sign from heaven that the first man 
who should enter the church next morning should be the 
bishop whom God had chosen. 

Now Nicholas used to spend most of his nights in prayer 
and always went very early to church, so next morning just 
as the sun was rising and the bells were beginning to ring 
for the early mass, he was seen coming up to the church 
door and was the first to enter. As he knelt down quietly 
to say his prayers as usual, what was his surprise to meet 
a company of priests who hailed him as their new arch- 
bishop, chosen by G-od to be their leader and guide. So 
Nicholas was made Archbishop of Myra, to the joy of all 
in the city who knew and loved him. 

Not long after this a terrible famine swept over the land. 
Nicholas, as a good bishop should, felt the suffering of his 
people as if it were his own, and did all he could to help 
them. 

He knew that they must have corn or they would die, 
so he went to the harbor where two ships lay filled with 
grain, and asked the captains if they would sell him their 
cargo. They told the bishop they would willingly do so, 
but it was already sold to merchants of another country 
and they dared not sell it over again. 

" Take no thought of that," said Nicholas, " only sell 



122 STORY-TELLING 

me some of thy corn for my starving people, and I promise 
thee that there shall be nought wanting when thou shalt 
arrive at thy journey's end." 

The captains believed in the bishop's promise and gave 
him as much corn as he asked. And behold! when they 
came to deliver their cargo to the owners, there was not a 
bag lacking. 

There were two men in Myra who had been unjustly 
condemned to death, and it was told the bishop how greatly 
they stood in need of his help. The executioner was just 
about to raise his sword, when Nicholas seized his arm and 
wrenched the sword away. Then he set the poor prisoners 
free and told the judge that, if he dared to deal so unjustly 
again, the wrath of heaven and of the Bishop of Myra 
would descend upon him. 

There are many other stories told about the good bishop. 
Like his Master, he ever went about doing good ; and when 
he died, there were a great many legends told about him, 
for the people loved to believe that their bishop still cared 
for them and would come to their aid. We do not know 
whether all these legends are true, but they show how much 
Saint Nicholas was loved and honored even after his death, 
and how every one believed in his power to help them. 

— Amy Steedman. 

Saint Nicholas and the Nobleman's Son 

Here is one of the stories which all children who love 
Saint Nicholas will like to hear. 

There was once a nobleman who had no children and 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 123 

longed for a son above everything else in the world. Night 
and day he prayed to Saint Nicholas that he would grant 
him his request, and at last a son was born. He was a 
beautiful child, and the father was so delighted and so 
grateful to the saint who had listened to his prayers that, 
every year on the child's birthday, he made a great feast 
in honour of Saint Nicholas and a grand service was held 
in the church. 

Now the Evil One grew very angry each year when this 
happened, for it made many people go to church and honor 
the good saint, neither of which things pleased the Evil 
One at all. So each year he tried to think of some plan 
that would put an end to these rejoicings, and he decided 
at last that if only he could do some evil to the child, the 
parents would blame Saint Nicholas and all would be well. 

It happened just then to be the boy's sixth birthday, and 
a greater feast than ever was being held. It was late in 
the afternoon, and the gardener, the porter and all the 
servants were away keeping holiday too. So no one noticed 
a curious-looking pilgrim who came and sat close to the 
great iron gates which led into the courtyard. He had on 
the ordinary robe of a poor pilgrim, but the hood was drawn 
so far over his face that nothing but a dark shadow could 
be seen inside. And indeed that was as well, for this pil- 
grim was a demon in disguise, and his wicked, black face 
would have frightened any one who saw it. He could not 
enter the courtyard, for the great gates were always kept 
locked, and, as you know, the porter was away that day, 
feasting with all the other servants. 



124 STOEY-TELLING 

But, before very long, the little boy grew weary of his 
birthday feast, and having had all he wanted, he begged 
to be allowed to go to play in the garden. His parents 
knew that the gardener always looked after him there, so 
they told him he might go. They forgot that the gardener 
was not there just then. 

The child played happily alone for some time and then 
wandered into the courtyard, and looking out of the gate 
saw a poor pilgrim resting there. 

" What are you doing here? " asked the child, " and 
why do you sit so still 1 ' ' 

" I am a poor pilgrim," answered the demon, trying to 
make his harsh voice sound as gentle as possible, " and I 
have come all the way from Rome. I am resting here 
because I am so weary and footsore and have had nothing 
to eat all day." 

' ' I will let you in and take you to my father, ' ' said the 
child; " this is my birthday, and no one must go hungry 
to-day," 

But the demon pretended he was too weak to walk, and 
begged the boy to bring some food out to him. 

Then the child ran back to the banquet hall in a great 
hurry and said to his father: 

' ' O father, there is a poor pilgrim from Rome sitting , 
outside our gate, and he is so hungry. May I take him 
some of my birthday feast ? ' ' 

The father was very much pleased to think that his son 
should care for the poor and wish to be kind, so he willingly 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 125 

gave his permission and told one of the servants to give 
the child all that he wanted. 

Then as the demon sat eating the good things, he began 
to question the boy and tried to find out all that he could 
about him. 

' ' Do you often play in the garden ? " he asked. 

" Oh yes," said the child, " I play there whenever I may, 
for in the midst of the lawn there is a beautiful fountain, 
and the gardener makes me boats to sail on the water. ' ' 

" Will he make you one to-day? " asked the demon 
quickly. 

" He is not here to-day," answered the child, " for this 
is a holiday for every one and I am quite alone. ' ' 

Then the demon rose to his feet slowly and said he felt 
so much better after the good food, that he thought he 
could walk a little, and would like very much to come in 
and see the beautiful garden and the fountain he had 
heard about. 

So the child climbed up and with great difficulty drew 
back the bolts. The great gates swung open and the demon 
walked in. 

As they went along together towards the fountain, the 
child held out his little hand to lead the pilgrim, but even 
the demon shrank from touching anything so pure and 
innocent, and folded his arms under his robe, so that the 
child could only hold by a fold of his cloak. 

" What strange kind of feet you have," said the child 
as they walked along; " they look as if they belonged to 
an animal." 



126 STOEY-TELLING 

" Yes, they are curious," said the demon, *' but it is 
just the way they are made." 

Then the child began to notice the demon 's hands, which 
were even more strange than his feet, and just like the 
paws of a bear. But he was too courteous to say anything 
about them, when he had already mentioned the feet. 

Just then they came to the fountain, and with a sudden 
movement the demon threw back his hood and showed his 
dreadful face. And before the child could scream he was 
seized- by those hairy hands and thrown into the water. 

But just at that moment the gardener was returning to 
his work and saw from a distance what had happened. 
He ran as fast as he could, but he only got to the fountain 
in time to see the demon vanish, while the child's body 
was floating on the water. Very quickly he drew him out 
and carried him, all dripping wet, up to the castle, where 
they tried to bring him back to life. But alas ! it all seemed 
of no use, he neither moved nor breathed ; and the day that 
had begun with such rejoicing ended in the bitterest woe. 
The poor parents were heartbroken, but they did not quite 
lose hope and prayed earnestly to Saint Nicholas, who had 
given them the child, that he would restore their boy to 
them again. 

As they prayed by the side of the little bed where the 
body of the child lay, they thought something moved, and 
to their joy and surprise the boy opened his eyes and sat 
up, and in a short time was as well as ever. 

They asked him eagerly what had happened, and he told 
them all about the pilgrim with the queer feet and hands, 



THE STORY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 127 

who had gone with him to the fountain and had then thrown 
back his hood and shown his terrible face. After that he 
could remember nothing until he found himself in a beauti- 
ful garden, where the loveliest flowers grew. There were 
lilies like white stars, and roses far more beautiful than 
any he had ever seen in his own garden, and the leaves of 
the trees shone like silver and gold. It was all so beautiful 
that for a while he forgot about his home, and when he 
did remember and tried to find his way back, he grew bewil- 
dered and did not know in what direction to turn. As he 
was looking about, an old man came down the garden path 
and smiled so kindly upon him that he trusted him at 
once. This old man was dressed in the robes of a bishop, 
and had a long white beard and the sweetest old face the 
child had ever seen. 

' ' Art thou searching for the way home ? ' ' the old man 
asked. ' ' Dost thou wish to leave this beautiful garden and 
go back to thy father and mother? " 

" I want to go home," said the child, with a sob in his 
voice, " but I cannot find the way, and I am, oh, so tired 
of searching for it ! " 

Then the old man stooped down and lifted him in his 
arms, and the child laid his head on the old man's shoulder, 
and, weary with his wanderings, fell fast asleep and remem- 
bered nothing more till he woke up in his own little bed. 

Then the parents knew that Saint Nicholas had heard 
their prayers and had gone to fetch the child from the 
Heavenly Garden and brought him back to them. 

So they were more grateful to the old saint than ever, 



128 STORY-TELLING 

and they loved and honored him even more than they had 
done before ; which was all the reward the demon got for 
his wicked doings. 

That is one of the many stories told after the death of 
Saint Nicholas, and it ever helped and comforted his people 
to think that, though they could no longer see him, he 
would love and protect them still. 

Young maidens in need of help remembered the story 
of the golden bars and felt sure the good saint would not 
let them want. Sailors tossing on the stormy waves thought 
of that storm which had sunk to rest at the prayer of 
Saint Nicholas. Poor prisoners with no one to take their 
part were comforted by the thought of those other prisoners 
whom he had saved. And little children perhaps have 
remembered him most of all, for when the happy Christmas 
time draws near, who is so much in their thoughts as Saint 
Nicholas, or Santa Claus, as they call him? Perhaps they 
are a little inclined to think of him as some good magician 
who comes to fill their stockings with gifts, but they should 
never forget that he was the kind bishop, who, in olden 
days, loved to make the little ones happy. There are some 
who think that even now he watches over and protects 
little children, and for that reason he is called their patron 
saint. — Amy Steedman. 

The Emperor's Vision * 

It happened at the time when Augustus was Emperor in 

Rome and Herod was King in Jerusalem. 

* Used by special arrangements with Henry Holt and Company, 
from " Christ Legends." Copyright, 1900. 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 129 

It was then that a very great and holy night sank down 
over the earth. It was the darkest night that anyone had 
ever seen. One could have believed that the whole earth 
had fallen into a cellar-vault. It was impossible to distin- 
guish water from land, and one could not find one's way 
on the most familiar road. And it couldn't be otherwise, 
for not a ray of light came from heaven. All the stars 
staj^ed at home in their own houses, and the fair moon 
held her face averted. 

The silence and stillness were as profound as the dark- 
ness. The rivers stood still in their courses, the wind did 
not stir, and even the aspen leaves had ceased to quiver. 
Had anyone walked along the seashore, he would .have 
found that the waves no longer dashed upon the sands ; and 
had one wandered in the desert, the sand would not have 
crunched under one's feet. Everything was as motionless 
as if turned to stone, so as not to disturb the holy night. 
The grass was afraid to grow, the dew could not fall, and 
the flowers dared not exhale their perfume. 

On this night the wild beasts did not seek their prey, the 
serpents did not sting, and the dogs did not bark. And 
what was even more glorious, inanimate things would have 
been unwilling to disturb the night 's sanctity, lending them- 
selves to an evil deed. No false key could have picked a 
lock, and no knife could possibly have drawn a drop of 
blood. 

In Rome, during this very night, a small company of 
people came from the Emperor's palace at the Palatine 



130 STORY-TELLING 

and took the path across the Forum which led to the 
Capitol. During the day just ended the Senators had 
asked the Emperor if he had any objections to their erect- 
ing a temple to him on Rome's sacred hill. But Augustus 
had not immediately given his consent. He did not know 
whether the gods would be pleased if he should own a 
temple next to theirs, and he had replied that first he wished 
to ascertain their will in the matter by offering a noc- 
turnal sacrifice to his genius. It was he who, accompanied 
by a few trusted friends, was on his way to perform this 
sacrifice. 

Augustus let them carry him in his litter, for he was 
old, and it was an effort for him to climb the long stairs 
leading to the Capitol. He himself held the cage with the 
doves for the sacrifice. No priests or soldiers or senators 
accompanied him, only his nearest friends. Torch-bearers 
walked in front of him in order to light the way in the 
night darkness, and behind him followed the slaves, who 
carried the tripod, the knives, the charcoal, the sacred fire, 
and all the other things needed for the sacrifice. 

On the way the Emperor chatted gaily with his faithful 
followers, and therefore none of them noticed the infinite 
silence and stillness of the night. Only when they had 
reached the highest point of the Capitol Hill and the vacant 
spot upon which they contemplated erecting the temple did 
it dawn upon them that something unusual was taking 
place. 

It could not be a night like all others, for up on the 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 131 

very edge of the cliff they saw the most remarkable being! 
At first they thought it was an old distorted olive-trunk ; 
later they imagined that an ancient stone figure from the 
temple of Jupiter had wandered out on the cliff. Finally 
it was apparent to them that it could be only the old sibyl. 

Anything so aged, so weather-beaten, and so giant-like 
in stature they had never seen. This old woman was awe- 
inspiring! If the Emperor had not been present, they 
would all have fled to their homes. 

"It is she," they whispered to each other, " who has 
lived as many years as there are sand-grains on her native 
shores. "Why has she come out from her cave just to-night ? 
What does she foretell for the Emperor and the Empire — 
she, who writes her prophecies on the leaves of the trees 
and knows that the wind will carry the words of the oracle 
to the person for whom they are intended ? " 

They were so terrified that they would have dropped on 
their knees with their foreheads pressed against the earth 
had the sibyl stirred. But she sat as still as though she 
were lifeless. Crouching upon the outermost edge of the 
cliff, and shading her eyes with her hand, she peered out 
into the night. She sat there as if she had gone up on the 
hill that she might see more clearly something that was 
happening far away. She could see things on a night like 
this ! 

At that moment the Emperor and all his retinue marked 
how profound the darkness was. None of them could see 
a hand 's breadth in front of him. And what stillness ! 



132 STOEY-TELLING 

What silence! Not even the Tiber's hollow murmur could 
they hear. The air seemed to suffocate them; cold sweat 
broke out on their foreheads; and their hands were numb 
and powerless. They feared that some dreadful disaster 
was impending. 

But no one cared to show that he was afraid, and every- 
one told the Emperor that this was a good omen. All 
nature held its breath to greet a new god. 

They counseled Augustus to hurry with the sacrifice, and 
said that the old sibyl had evidently come out of her cave 
to greet his genius. 

But the truth was that the old sibyl was so absorbed 
in a vision that she did not even know that Augustus had 
come up to the Capitol. She was transported in spirit to a 
far-distant land, where she imagined that she was wander- 
ing over a great plain. In the darkness she stubbed her 
foot continually against something, which she believed to 
be grass-tufts. She stooped down and felt with her hand. 
No, it was not grass, but sheep. She was walking between 
great sleeping flocks of sheep. 

Then she noticed the shepherds' fire. It burned in the 
middle of the field, and she groped her way to it. The 
shepherds lay asleep by the fire, and beside them were the 
long, spiked staves with which they defended their flocks 
from wild beasts. But the little animals with the glittering 
eyes and the bushy tails that stole up to the fire, were they 
not jackals? And yet the shepherds did not fling their 
staves at them, the dogs continued to sleep, the sheep did 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 133 

not flee, and the wild animals lay down to rest beside the 
human beings. 

This the sibyl saw, but she knew nothing of what was 
being enacted on the hill back of her. She did not know 
that there they were raising an altar, lighting charcoal 
and strewing incense, and that the Emperor took one of 
the doves from the cage to sacrifice it. But his hands were 
so benumbed that he could not hold the bird. With one 
stroke of the wing it freed itself and disappeared into the 
night darkness. 

When this happened, the courtiers glanced suspiciously 
at the old sibyl. They believed it was she who caused the 
misfortune. 

Could they know that all the while the sibyl thought her- 
self standing beside the shepherds' fire, and that she lis- 
tened to a faint sound which came trembling through the 
dead-still night? She heard it long before she marked 
that it did not come from the earth, but from the sky. At 
last she raised her head; then she saw light, shimmering 
forms glide forward in the darkness. They were little 
flocks of angels, who, singing joyously and apparently 
searching, flew back and forth above the wide plain. 

While the sibyl was listening to the angel song, the 
Emperor was making preparation for a new sacrifice. He 
washed his hands, cleansed the altar, and took up the other 
dove. And, although he exerted his full strength to hold 
it fast, the dove's slippery body slid from his hand, and 
the bird swung itself up into the impenetrable night. 



134 STORY-TELLING 

The Emperor was appalled ! He fell upon his knees and 
prayed to his genius. He implored him for strength to 
avert the disasters which this night seemed to foreshadow. 

Nor did the sibyl hear any of this either. She was listen- 
ing with her whole soul to the angel song, which grew 
louder and louder. At last it became so powerful that it 
awakened the shepherds. They raised themselves on their 
elbows and saw shining hosts of silver-white angels move 
in the darkness in long, swaying lines, like migratory birds. 
Some held lutes and cymbals in their hands; others held 
zithers and harps, and their song rang out as merry as 
child laughter, and as care-free as the lark's trill. When 
the shepherds heard this they rose up to go to the moun- 
tain city, where they lived, to tell of the miracle. 

They groped their way forward on a narrow, winding 
path, and the sibyl followed them. Suddenly it grew light 
up there on the mountain; a big, clear star kindled right 
over it, and the city on the mountain summit glittered like 
silver in the starlight. All the fluttering angel throngs 
hastened thither, shouting for joy, and the shepherds hur- 
ried so that they almost ran. When they reached the city, 
they found that the angels had assembled over a low stable 
near the city gate. It was a wretched structure, with a 
roof of straw and the naked cliff for a back wall. Over it 
hung the Star, and hither flocked more and more angels. 
Some seated themselves on the straw roof or alighted upon 
the steep mountain-wall back of the house ; others, again, 
held themselves in the air on outspread wings, and hovered 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 135 

over it. High, high up, the air was illuminated by the 
shining wings. 

The instant the Star kindled over the mountain city all 
Nature awoke, and the men who stood upon Capitol Hill 
could not help seeing it. They felt refreshed by the caress- 
ing winds which traveled through space. Delicious per- 
fumes streamed up about them; trees swayed; the Tiber 
began to murmur; the stars twinkled, and suddenly the 
moon stood out in the sky and lit up the world. And out of 
the clouds the two doves came circling down and lighted 
upon the Emperor's shoulders. 

When this miracle happened, Augustus rose, proud and 
happy, but his friends and his slaves fell on their knees. 

'' Hail, Caesar! " they cried. " Thy genius hath an- 
swered thee. Thou art the god who shall be worshiped on 
Capitol Hill ! " 

And this cry of homage, which the men in their transport 
gave as a tribute to the Emperor, was so loud that the old 
sibyl heard it. It waked her from her visions. She rose 
from her place on the edge of the cliff and came down 
among the people. It was as if a dark cloud had risen 
from the abyss and rushed down the mountain height. She 
was terrifying in her extreme age ! Coarse hair hung in 
matted tangles around her head, her joints were enlarged, 
and the dark skin, hard as the bark of a tree, covered her 
body with furrow upon furrow. 

Potent and awe-inspiring, she advanced toward the 
Emperor. "With one hand she clutched his wrist, with the 
other she pointed toward the distant East. 



136 STORY-TELLING 

' ' Look ! " she commanded, and the Emperor raised his 
eyes and saw. The vaulted heavens opened before his eyes, 
and his glance traveled to the distant Orient. He saw a 
lowly stable behind a steep rock wall, and in the open door- 
way a few shepherds kneeling. "Within the stable he saw a 
young mother on her knees before a little child, who lay 
upon a bundle of straw on the floor. 

And the sibyl's big, knotty fingers pointed toward the 
poor babe. " Hail, Caesar! " cried the sibyl, in a burst 
of scornful laughter. " There is the god who shall be 
worshiped on Capitol Hill ! ' ' 

Then Augustus shrank back from her, as from a maniac. 
But upon the sibyl fell the mighty spirit of prophecy. Her 
dim eyes began to burn, her hands were stretched toward 
heaven, her voice was so changed that it seemed not to be her 
own, but rang out with such resonance and power that it 
could have been heard over the whole world. And she 
uttered words which she appeared to be reading among the 
stars. 

" Upon Capitol Hill shall the redeemer of the world be 
worshiped — Christ — but not frail mortals. ' ' 

When she had said this she strode past the terror-stricken 
men, walked slowly down the mountain, and disappeared. 

But, on the following day, Augustus strictly forbade the 
people to raise any temple to him on Capitol Hill. In place 
of it he built a sanctuary to the new-born God-Child, and 
called it Heaven's Altar — Ara Coeli. 

— Selma Lageriof. 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 137 

Blind Babtimaeus * 

(A Christmas Story) 

Blind Bartimaeus was not his real name — - of course not. 
In the first place, he had not always been blind. Until the 
night he rushed into neighbor Tyne's burning house and 
rescued a child from death, his eyes had been bright, clear, 
and far-seeing. "When, after weeks of agony, he once more 
came out among his neighbors, he was blind indeed, but 
not yet Bartimaeus. That came later, and this is the man- 
ner of its coming. 

One Sunday morning Father Anthony told his people 
the story of Blind Bartimaeus in words so simple and 
withal so eloquent that every heart was touched. To the 
blind man Father Anthony 's words brought a special mes- 
sage of hope and cheer. As he left the church, after the 
service, his mind still full of the beautiful old story, he 
stumbled against some of the people lingering about the 
door. Whereupon, a heedless boy who had seen him, called 
to his fellows, " Step out of the way. Here comes Blind 
Bartimaeus ! ' ' All within hearing turned upon the boy ' 
with words of reproof, reproach or anger — all but the 
blind man. *' Nay, scold not the lad," he said. '' It is a 
good name. Was not Blind Bartimaeus healed by the 
Christ? Who knows but the boy's words carry a good 
omen? Perhaps I, too, shall have my blindness lightened 
by the Master." So ever after the people of the village 

* Reprinted from the Storytellers' Magazine, December, 1913. 



138 STOEY-TELLINa 

called him " Blind Bartimaeus, " not in mocking, but in 
reverence, hoping in their simple hearts that the Master 
would indeed open the blind eyes. 

All this happened when he was a young man. The years 
passed until at the time of this story he had nearly reached 
the allotted three score years and ten. Still he was Blind 
Bartimaeus and still he looked for the coming of the Great 
Physician. 

Early one morning a strange, wild figure entered the lit- 
tle village. Although it was winter, and the ground was 
white with snow, his feet were but partly covered with a 
pair of old grass sandals. His clothes, if so they might 
be called, were simply a number of undressed skins of 
wild animals. His head was bare, and his. long, matted, 
white hair and beard streamed out in the wind. Holding 
his right hand aloft, he walked swiftly towards the little 
church, shouting as he went, ' ' A message ! A message ! ' ' 

"It is the holy man, the hermit Job," whispered the 
people with wondering faces. " What message can he 
bear? " 

Dropping their work they hastened to the church, and 
by the time the hermit had mounted the stone steps and 
stood ready to speak, everyone in the village — even Blind 
Bartimaeus — stood on the ground below ready to hear 
the message. Father Anthony, the good old priest, alone 
stood on the steps with the hermit, but back and nearer 
the church door. Hermit Job raised his hand, and a dead 
silence fell upon the waiting people as he began to speak. 
** Last night while all the earth slept, I kept vigil in yon- 



THE STORY IN THE SCHOOLROOM 139 

der forest. For seven days and seven nights I had kept the 
vigil, fasting and praying without ceasing that Christ would 
once more visit the world and judge his people. Too weak 
to stand, I lay with my face to the ground and moaned, 
' How long, Lord, how long must thy people wait? ' 
Then suddenly there shone around me a most wondrous, 
dazzling light and I looked up and beheld an angel, clothed 
in white, standing before me. And as I gazed, speechless 
with awe, the vision spake and said, ' Job, thy prayer hath 
been heard, and thy desire shall be granted. At Christmas- 
tide the Master will again visit the world and judge His 
children. Arise, eat and drink, and go into the village 
beyond and make known His coming to the people, that 
they may have all things ready and meet to receive Him. 
Be ye His messenger.' Then faded the vision and I was 
left alone." 

For a full minute after the hermit had ended, the people 
stood breathless, then they began to question him eagerly. 

" Where shall we most fittingly receive Him? " " How 
shall we prepare for His coming ? " " When will — ' ' 

" Ask me not," interrupted the hermit, " I cannot say. 
I delivered unto you the message as I received it. More 
I cannot do." Descending the steps he swept his long arm 
from side to side, clearing a way for himself. Passing 
through the lane thus formed he made his way back to 
the forest. 

The people stood in silence watching the tall figure till 
it faded from their sight ; then they returned to the making 
of their plans for the great day. 



140 STOEY-TELLING 

" The wise men of yore prepared gifts for the Christ," 
said one old man. " Should we not do likewise? " 

'' That is a good thought," answered another. " Let us 
prepare the best gift we can," 

" Where shall we bring our gifts? " asked one. 

" Here to the church. Is it not His house? " replied the 
oldest man in the village. '* What place could be more 
fitting? " 

" Let each bring his gift here and leave it secretly," said 
the miser. " Then none need feel cast down if his gift 
be not as fine as others, for no one will know what another 
brings," This he said, not because he had pity on the 
poor man who could bring but a small gift, but because 
he sought thus to hide the meanness of the gift he thought 
to offer, 

" Not so, not so, I say. Let each man bear his own 
gift. Then shall the Master see who has used his talent 
most wisely." Thus spake the richest man in the village, 
for he wanted his good works to be seen and praised of 
all men. 

So it came to pass that after much talking it was decided 
that every man should bring his gift to the church on 
Christmas morning and there await the coming of the 
Master. 

While the people talked and planned, good Father 
Anthony looked down upon them with eyes full of kind- 
ness and love, but he refused to take any part in the dis- 
cussion. Before leaving the church the people knelt for 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 141 

his blessing, and as he dismissed them, the good priest 
said, " Kemember, my children, that it is written, ' Only 
the pure in heart shall see God.' Ye have more than gifts 
to prepare." But the people were so eager to get to their 
homes and think of their gifts that they hardly heeded 
the words of Father Anthony. 

For days there was nothing talked of but the great and 
wonderful news the hermit had brought and the gifts each 
was preparing. The sad truth must be told — this season, 
that should have been full of joy and gladness, was a time 
of bitterness and striving, each man eager to outdo his 
neighbor and prepare a finer gift. Only one man went on 
in his usual way. This was Blind Bartimaeus. When 
asked what gift he would bring, he always answered, ' ' The 
best that I have ; perchance a loaf or two of barley bread 
and a little honey." 

Then his neighbors forgot Blind Bartimaeus' affliction 
and his brave, cheerful life and mocked him, saying, 

" Great gifts, these, to bring to the Master! " 

" Aye," answered the blind man, '' they are small and 
most unworthy, but He scorned not the loaves and fishes 
in the desert, but used them to His honor and glory; so 
perhaps He may even accept my humble offering, knowing 
that it is my best and that I give it freely from my heart. ' ' 

On Christmas Eve, just as the dusk was closing down, 
a beggar boy entered the village. His clothes were worn 
and ragged, and his little feet were bare. He shivered in 



142 STORY-TELLING 

the cold blast. He was hungry, wayworn and weary. The 
first house on the street was the rich man's. Here the 
boy stopped and asked for food and shelter. 

" Come to-morrow/' answered the rich man, not un- 
kindly, " to-night I am too busy getting ready my Christ- 
mas gifts to attend to anything else." 

The next house was the miser's. Here the boy was 
ordered off with threats and angry words, for the miser 
was so torn between the desire to save his possessions and 
the desire to out-do the rich man in his gift that he was 
cross and fretful. 

So from house to house wandered the child, but no one 
had time to listen to his story or relieve his distress. To 
be sure, after sending the boy away. Neighbor Tyne 's heart 
pricked him, and he went again to his door to call the beg- 
gar boy back, but he saw him enter the little cottage of 
Blind Bartimaeus, and knew that all was well with the 
child. 

Christmas morning broke bright and clear, and at the 
ringing of the bell the people gathered in the church, 
bringing their gifts with them. Good Father Anthony 
looked at them with a shadow on his face, for he saw 
plainly that the gifts were not brought for love of the 
Master, but for the glory of men. Blind Bartimaeus was 
the last man to enter the church, and he came with empty 
hands. 

" "What means this? " cried his neighbors. " Where is 
your gift? What will you do when the Master comes? " 



THE STORY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 143 

' ' The Master has come and I — I, Blind Bartimaeus, 
have seen him with these eyes." 

" Has come? You have seen him? What mean ye? " 
cried the people, closing around the blind man. 

Father Anthony stepped to the side of Blind Bartimaeus, 
and, taking his hand, said, ' ' Stand back, my children, and 
let the man tell his story." 

" I had prepared my gift — two barley loaves and a 
little honey," began the blind man, " and had it ready to 
bring here to-day. Last night as I sat at my fireside 
dreaming of the great joy to come, I heard a timid knock 
at my door. I opened it and there stood a poor child 
almost perishing for want of food and warmth. For a 
moment I hardened my heart against his plea for help. I 
had nothing in the house but the Master 's gift — and, 
my friends, if ye only knew what that meant to me ! For 
fifty years I had waited for the coming of the Master. For 
weeks I had been telling myself that if my gift found 
favor in His sight. He might, indeed, open my blind eyes. 
How could I part with my gift — perhaps my only chance 
of healing — to an unknown beggar boy! But when I 
placed my hand on the little ragged jacket and felt the 
child shiver, I could withhold the gift no longer. I bade the 
lad throw aside his wet clothing and wrapped him in my 
cloak and fed him. After his meal, as he sat on my knee 
before the fire and I felt the soft little body now com- 
forted a:nd warm, within my arms, a great joy and peace 
crept into my heart, for, friends, I have been lonely ever, 
and I said softly, ' Wilt stay with me always and be eyes 



144 STORY-TELLINa 

to old Blind Bartimaeus, my lad ? ' ' Aye, ' he whispered, 
and lifted his hand and touched my eyelids with his little 
fingers and, as he did so, methought I heard a voice saying, 
' Look up. Blind Bartimaeus,' and I looked up and behold, 
I saw, and my poor little room was filled with a wondrous 
light, and in the midst of the light stood a vision all glor- 
ious, and I knew it was the Master, for none other could 
have such loving, pitying eyes ! And the Vision Glorious 
pointed to the child in my arms and said, ' Inasmuch as ye 
have done it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it 
unto me ; ' and lo, while the voice still sounded in mine ears, 
the vision vanished, but I heard the most wonderful music 
as of a choir invisible singing: 

' Blessed are they, whose thoughts in deeds find wing. 
Whose hands the gifts of love and mercy bring, 
And in his lowliest children see their king. 

' Blessed are they who hear the Master plead 

In every cry of sorrow or of need, 

Lo, to their hearts the Lord has come indeed. ' 

" Then all was dark and still again. But in my heart 
was music and joy, for in my arms I held a little child, 
whose arms clasped my neck, and I — even I — Blind Bar- 
timaeus, had seen the Lord." 

The people had listened in breathless silence while the 
story was being told, and then with a sob, the rich man 
spoke : ' ' Here, neighbor, take my gift. It is for the boy. 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLROOM 145 

Verily, ye only have shown the true spirit of Christ. Take 
the gift in his name." 

Others followed and left their gifts at the feet of Bar- 
timaeus and Father Anthony to be used for the Master's 
poor. Only the miser hugged his gift closer and said, 
" Nonsense! The blind man deceives ye. Think ye the 
Master would visit his poor dwelling? I tell ye he but 
dreamed the story," 

" Nay, not so," said Father Anthony. " 'Twas no dream. 
Well, ye all know that the promise is that the pure in 
heart shall see God. Blind Bartimaeus hath looked upon 
the Vision Glorious — Blind Bartimaeus hath seen the 
Christ." — Catherine Tiviner Bryce. 

The Worker in Sandal-wood * 

It was the only wood of that kind which had ever been 
seen in Terminaison. Pierre L 'Oreillard brought it into the 
workshop one morning, a small, heavy bundle wrapped in 
sacking, and then in burlap, and then in fine soft cloths. 
He laid it on a pile of shavings, and unwrapped it care- 
fully; and a dim sweetness filled the dark shed and hung 
heavily in the thin winter sunbeams. 

Pierre L 'Oreillard rubbed the wood respectfully with his 
knobby fingers. "It is sandal-wood," he explained to 
Hyacinthe, pride of knowledge making him expansive, " a 
most precious wood that grows in warm countries, thou 

* Reprinted from TJie Atlantic Monthly, December, 1909, 
through the courtesy of Miss Marjorie L. C. Pickthall and The 
Atlantic Monthly Company. Copyrighted. 



146 STORY-TELLING 

great goblin. Smell it, imhecile. It is sweeter than cedar. 
It is to make a cabinet for the old Madame at the big house. 
Thy great hands shall smooth the wood, nigaud, and I, I, 
Pierre the cabinet-maker, shall render it beautiful. ' ' Then 
he went out, locking the door behind him. 

When he was gone Hyacinthe laid down his plane, blew 
his stiff fingers, and shambled slowly over to the wood. 
He was a great clumsy boy of fourteen, dark-faced, very 
slow of speech, dull-eyed, and uncared for. He was clumsy 
because it is impossible to move gracefully when you are 
growing very big and fast on quite insufficient food ; he 
was dull-eyed because all eyes met his unlovingly ; uncared 
for, because none knew the beauty of his soul. But his 
heavy young hands could carve simple things like flowers 
and birds and beasts to perfection. 

Hyacinthe knew that the making of the cabinet would 
fall to him, as most of the other work did. He also touched 
the strange, sweet wood, and at last laid his cheek against 
it, while the fragrance caught his breath. " How it is 
beautiful! " said Hyacinthe, and for a moment his eyes 
glowed and he was happy. Then the light passed, and with 
bent head he shuffled back to his bench through a foam of 
white shavings curling almost to his knees. 

" Madame perhaps will want the cabinet next week, for 
that is Christmas," said Hyacinthe, and fell to work harder 
than ever, though it was so cold in the shed that his breath 
hung like a little silver cloud and the steel stung his 
hands. 

Brandy was good at the Cinq Chateaux and Pierre 



THE STORY IX THE SCHOOLROOM I47 

L'Oreillard gave Hyacinthe plenty of directions, but no 
further help with his cabinet. 

" That is to be finished for Madame on the festival, 
gros esc argot," said he, cuffing Hyacinthe 's ears furiously; 
" finished, and with a prettiness about the corners, hear- 
est thou, our son f I suffer from a delicacy of the consti- 
tution and a little feebleness in the legs on these days, so 
that I cannot handle the tools. I must leave this work to 
thee, gasheur. See it is done properly. And stand up and 
touch a hand to thy cap when I address thee, great slow- 
worm. ' ' 

' ' Yes, monsieur, ' ' said Hyacinthe wearily. 

It is hard, when you do all the work, to be cuffed into the 
bargain ; and fourteen is not very old. He went to work 
on the cabinet with slow, exquisite skill ; but on the eve of 
Noel he was still at work, and the cabinet unfinished. It 
meant a thrashing from Pierre if the morrow came and 
found it still unfinished, and Pierre 's thrashings were cruel. 
But it was growing into a thing of perfection under his 
slow hands, and Hyacinthe would not hurry over it. 

" Then work on it all night, and show it to me all com- 
pleted in the morning, or thy bones shall mourn thine idle- 
ness, " said Pierre with a flicker of his little eyes. And he 
shut, Hyacinthe into the workshop with a smoky lamp, his 
tools, and the sandal-wood cabinet. 

It was nothing unusual. The boy had often been left 
before to finish a piece of work overnight while Pierre went 
off to his brandies. But this was Christmas Eve, and he 
was very tired. The cold crept into the shed, until even 



148 STORYTELLING 

the scent of the sandal-wood could not make him dream 
himself warm, and the roof cracked sullenly in the frost. 
There came upon Hyacinthe one of those awful, hopeless 
despairs that children know. It seemed to be a living pres- 
ence that caught up his soul and crushed it in Mack hands. 
" In all the world, nothing! " said he, staring at the dull 
flame ; " no place, no heart, no love ! kind God, is there 
a place, a love for me in another world ? ' ' 

Hyacinthe even looked at the chisel in his hand, and 
thought that by a touch of that he might lose it all, all, 
and be at peace, somewhere not far from God ; only it was 
forbidden. Then came the tears, and great sobs that 
sickened and deafened him, so that, he scarcely heard the 
gentle rattling of the latch. 

' ' I see you are working late, comrade. May I come in ? " 
said a strange voice. 

Hyacinthe brushed his ragged sleeve across his eyes, and 
opened the door wider with a little nod to the other to 
enter. As the stranger turned within the door, smiling at 
Hyacinthe and shaking some snow from his fur cap, he did 
not seem more than sixteen or so. 

" It is very cold outside, ' ' he said ; ' ' there is a big oak 
tree on the edge of the fields that has split in the frost and 
frightened all the little squirrels asleep there. Next year 
it will make an even better home for them. And see what I 
found close by ! " He opened his fingers, and showed Hya- 
cinthe a little sparrow lying unruffled in his palm. 

'' Pauvrette! " said the dull Hyacinthe. " Pauvrette! 
Is it then dead ? " He touched it with a gentle forefinger. 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLROOM 149 

" No," answered the strange boy, " it is not dead. We 
will put it here among the shavings, not far from the lamp, 
and it will be well by morning." 

He smiled at Hyacinthe again, and the shambling lad felt 
dimly as if the scent of the sandal-wood had deepened, 
and the lamp burned clearer. But the stranger's eyes 
were only quiet, quiet. 

" Have you come far? " asked Hyacinthe. ''It is a 
bad season for traveling, and the wolves are out in the 
woods," 

' ' A long way, ' ' said the other ; " a long, long way. I 
heard a child cry-— " 

" There is no child here," answered Hyacinthe, shaking 
his head. ' ' But if you have come far you must be cold and 
hungry, and I have no food nor fire. At the Cinq Chateaux 
you will find both." 

The stranger looked at him again with those quiet eyes, 
and Hyacinthe fancied his face was familiar. " I will stay 
here, ' ' he said. ' ' You are very late at work and you are 
unhappy." 

' ' Why, as to that, ' ' answered Hyacinthe, rubbing again 
at his cheeks and ashamed of his tears, ' ' most of us are sad 
at one time or another, the good God knows. Stay here 
and welcome if it pleases you; and you may take a share 
of my bed, though it 'is no more than a pile of balsam 
boughs and an old blanket in the loft. But I must work 
at this cabinet, for the drawer must be finished and the 
handles put on and these corners carved, all by the holy 
morning; or my wages will be paid with a stick.". 



150 STOEY-TELLINa 

" You have a hard master," put in the other boy, " if 
he would pay you with blows upon the feast of Noel. ' ' 

' ' He is hard enough, ' ' said Hyacinthe ; ' ' but once he 
gave me a dinner of sausages and white wine, and once, 
in the summer, melons. If my eyes will stay open, I will 
finish this by morning, but indeed I am sleepy. Stay with 
me an hour or so, comrade, and talk to me of your wander- 
ings, so that the time may pass more quickly." 

" I will tell you of the country where I was a child," 
answered the stranger. 

And while Hyacinthe worked, he told of sunshine and 
dust ; of the shadows of vine-leaves on the flat white walls of 
a house ; of rosy doves on the flat roof ; of the flowers that 
come out in the spring, crimson and blue, and the white 
cyclamen, the myrtle and almond ; until Hyacinthe 's slow 
fingers ceased working, and his sleepy eyes blinked won- 
deringly. 

" See what you have done, comrade," he said at last; 
" you have told of such pretty things that I have done 
no work for an hour. And now the cabinet will never be 
finished, and I shall be beaten." 

' ' Let me help you, ' ' smiled the other ; " I also was bred 
a carpenter." 

At first Hyacinthe would not, fearing to trust the sweet 
wood out of his own hands. But at length he allowed 
the stranger to fit in one of the little drawers. And so 
deftly was the work done that Hyacinthe pounded his fists 
on the bench in admiration. '' You have a pretty knack," 
he cried ; " it seemed as if you did but hold the drawer in 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 151 

your hands a moment, and liey ! ho ! it jumped into its 
place!" 

' ' Let me fit in the other little drawers, while you go 
and rest a while," said the wanderer. So Hyacinthe curled 
up among the shavings, and the stranger fell to work upon 
the little cabinet of sandal-wood. 

Hyacinthe lay among the shavings in the sweetness of 
the sandal-wood, and was very tired. He thought of the 
country where the stranger had been a boy. All the time 
through these pictures, as through a painted veil, he was 
aware of that other boy with the quiet eyes, at work upon 
the cabinet, smoothing, fitting, polishing. ' ' He does better 
work than I," thought Hyacinthe; but he was not jealous. 
And again he thought, " It is growing towards morning. 
In a little while I will get up and help him. ' ' But he did 
not, for the dream of warmth and the smell of the sandal- 
wood held him in a sweet drowse. Also he said that he 
thought the stranger was singing as he worked, for there 
seemed to be a sense of some music in the shed, though he 
could not tell whether it came from the other boy's lips, 
or from the shabby old tools as he used them, or from 
the stars. ' ' The stars are much paler, ' ' thought Hyacinthe, 
" and soon it will be morning, and the corners are not 
carved yet. I must get up and help this kind one in a 
little moment. Only I am so tired, and the music and the 
sweetness seem to wrap me and fold me close, so that I 
may not move." 

He lay without moving, and behind the forest there shone 
a pale glow of some indescribable color that was neither 



152 STOEY-TELLINa 

green nor blue, while in Termiuaison the church bells began 
to ring. " Day will soon be here/' thought Hyacinthe, 
immovable in that deep dream of his, '' and with day will 
come Monsieur L'Oreillard and his stick. I must get up 
and help, for even yet the corners are not carved. ' ' 

But he did not get up. Instead, he saw the stranger look 
at him again, smiling as if he loved him, and lay his brown 
finger lightly upon the four empty corners of the cabinet. 
And Hyacinthe saw the little squares of reddish wood ripple 
and heave and break, as little clouds when the wind goes 
through the sky. And out of them thrust forth the little 
birds, and after them the lilies, for a moment living, but 
even while Hyacinthe looked growing hard and reddish- 
brown and setting back into the sweet wood. Then the 
stranger smiled again, and laid all the tools neatly in order, 
and, opening the door quietly, went away into the woods. 

Hyacinthe lay still among the shavings for a long time, 
and then he crept slowly to the door. The sun, not yet 
risen, sent his first beams upon the delicate mist of frost 
afloat beneath the trees, and so all the world was aflame 
with splendid gold. Far away down the road a dim figure 
seemed to move amid the glory, but the glow and splendor 
were such that Hyacinthe was blinded. His breath came 
sharply as the glow beat in great waves on the wretched 
shed, on the foam of shavings, on the cabinet with the 
little birds and the lilies carved at the corners. 

He was too pure of heart to feel afraid. But, " Blessed 
be the Lord, " whispered Hyacinthe, clasping his slow hands, 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 153 

" for He hath visited and redeemed his people. But who 
will believe? " 

Then the sun of Christ's day rose gloriously, and the 
little sparrow came from his nest among the shavings and 
shook his wings to the light. 

— Marjorie L. C. Pickthall. 

Madam Cecropia 
An Easter Story 

" It seems strange that Carl has not returned from his 
errand. ' ' The mother looked into her husband 's work-room 
anxiously. " There's a thunder cloud coming up, and the 
child went without a coat. ' ' 

" He has probably found some ' specimen ' and has 
stopped to watch it. If it begins to rain, he will run in 
somewhere for shelter," her husband assured her. But at 
the same time he went out upon the front porch with her 
to watch for the coming of their ten-year-old boy. 

After a clap of thunder and a short silence the autumn 
shower began to come down sharply ; and then they saw him 
coming very leisurely up the avenue, in his blue waist and 
overalls, and taking his wetting as a matter of course. 

' ' "Why, boy ! ' ' his mother called, ' ' hurry in and change 
your clothes. Aren't you wet through? " 

" Yes," replied Carl, " but, mother, see what I've 
found." 

He reached deep down in his overalls pocket and drew 
forth in his bare hands a great, fat, smooth-bodied cater- 



154 STOEY-TELLIISra 

pillar three inches long — light green with yellow prickles 
along the back and four red knobs down his neck, and 
with short, clinging legs. 

" The horrid thing! " exclaimed his mother. But the 
father, remembering that worms and caterpillars had not 
been abhorrent to him when he was a boy, persuaded Carl 
to deposit his treasure in a thread-box till he could be 
put into dry clothes. 

Then Carl looked it over with great care and gave it as 
his opinion that, as the creature was so large and sluggish 
and had been found crawling on the ground, it was ready 
to make its cocoon and die. Meanwhile Neal, the boy of 
six, had been watching his older brother and taking in all 
that was said as from an oracle. 

After the shower the two boys went and gathered leaves 
of lilac, and apple, and soft maple, hoping to find the food 
the worm needed. These they placed in the open box, and 
then set it on the wide window ledge of their room. 

The next day Neal was first to look in at their new pos- 
session. " Oh, Carl! " he called in very real distress, 
" he's gone! The big worm is gone! " 

The mother overheard and imagined the " creature " 
loose and crawling over the pillows ; but she had learned 
to rely upon Carl in all these matters. Soon she heard 
him assuring Neal. '' It can't be very far away, Neal. 
Oh, here it is on this maple twig I pinned to the window 
curtain. ' ' 

" And, oh, Carl, it's not pretty any more! It's tangled 
in spider webs," There it was with its head and the fore 



THE STORY IN THE SCHOOLROOM 155 

part of its body raised from the leaf, moving the head 
deliberately to and fro, the body partly enmeshed in what 
seemed a tangle of filmy, cream-colored gauze. Carl knew 
in part what this meant, but decided not to tell Neal till 
the miracle was finished. 

Two or three times during the day they looked in and 
watched the caterpillar for a while, until it had completely 
wrapped itself from sight. Within a few days a dull 
brownish-gray cocoon an inch through and about three 
inches long was completely finished and fastened firmly to 
the twig by the window casing. 

" Isn't it strange, mother," said Carl when all signs of 
life had disappeared in the cocoon, " that any animal 
should know enough to bury itself, and that it should spin 
its own grave clothes out of its own silk, just like the cloths 
in the mummy case we saw in the museum. I wonder if 
we should keep it if it would last as long as that Egyp- 
tian mummy did." 

His mother was surprised. She thought he knew what 
it all meant. But evidently it seemed to him that his 
beautiful worm had lived its life and had had a fitting 
burial. 

'' Let's take it out and bury it just as we did puppy 
Fluff when the automobile ran over her," suggested Neal. 

But Carl demurred. " Maybe we will in the spring 
when the ground is warm again. But it will soon be win- 
ter now." 

" All right, Carl, we'll bury it when the flowers come 
again in the spring," assented Neal. 



156 STOEY-TELLINa 

Then winter came, other matters interested the boys, 
and the cocoon on the window casing was almost forgotten. 
Like many another familiar object in a room it would have 
been missed if it had been removed, but being present and 
a part of the family picture, it was unnoticed. 

With the opening of spring the details of the Easter 
story came to Neal for the first time. It was a mystery. 
Fluffy had not come back after she was buried. He had 
not known anything to come back. And yet that very 
morning his teacher had told how Jesus had come out of 
the tomb and was not dead any more. " And," Carl 
added, ' ' when Jesus came back, he could do things that he 
could not do before he was dead. ' ' 

" Yes," said Neal, " he could go about as if he had 
wings. ' ' 

" Maybe father and I can help you to understand this 
when you grow a little older, ' ' said the mother. 

" Our teacher told us about plants going on after they 
seemed dead," continued Carl, calling through the open 
door to his mother, " and she showed us bulbs coming out 
as new daffodils, and maple seeds springing up in little 
shoots ; but that isn 't the same. They 're plants. They 're 
different." 

Just then Neal remembered the cocoon. '^ Carl," he 
began, " don't you think it is warm enough now to bury 
the big cocoon? " 

" Maybe," assented Carl. " Let's look at it anyway." 

''Why, Neal, the thing's empty!" he exclaimed. 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 157 

" There's a hole in one end. Who has meddled with it, 
do you think? " 

' ' Oh, look, look, Carl ! on the curtain ! ' ' 

" Neal, Neal! " cried Carl with delight, as he caught 
sight of the great moth slowly airing and unfolding her 
magnificent reddish-brown wings with the dark ' eye ' in 
the outer edge of the upper and the white ' moon ' glowing 
on the lower one, '' that's a cecropia — Samia Cecropia is 
the name Son Carter calls her; and his father says that 
Madam Cecropia is the very finest lady in Butterfly Land. 
Mother, isn't she a beauty? Call Father." 

" And she came out of our cocoon," marveled Neal. 
' ' When she wound herself up, she was a big, ugly worm ; 
and now just look at her ! ' ' 

Carl's mother reminded him of his wish to see some- 
thing in the animal world come back to life. 

" That's so," said Carl, after thinking a moment. " She 
looked dead in her mummy case ; but she has come out ; 
and look how much finer than she was in her other life. ' ' 

'' And the wings, Carl," Neal reminded. 

" Yes, and Easter, too," added Carl. " Just think! " 

— Allen Cross. 

The Home-Made Flag * 

What is the first Fourth of July you remember, Harry ? 
Eighteen-seventy six? The Centennial Fourth. We were 

* Reprinted by courtesy of the publisher from "Bamboo: Tales 
of the Orient-Born." By Lyon Sharman (Paul Elder and Com- 
pany, 1914). 



158 STORY-TELLING 

small boys then, weren 't we ? Let me see : I was six years 
old ; and you were four ? Strange, how much older I felt 
than you, just because you found " centennial " hard to 
pronounce. And yet you had talked Chinese from baby- 
hood, eh, Harry? But there was no word in Chinese so 
hard as " centennial," was there? 

Do you remember the little purple-covered book with 
the Constitution of the United States printed in it ? In the 
back of that book on a large sheet like a folding map, was 
a facsimile of the Declaration of Independence. You and 
I thumbed and tore that sheet, and decided that none of 
the great men could write so well as our mother. But we 
got the idea clearly that the Declaration of Independence 
and a war called the Kevolution, made the beginning of 
the United States of America, and we were always eager 
to hear about America. You and I had more than one dis- 
cussion in the Chinese language about America, the country 
we had never seen ; where father lived when he was a boy ; 
where we had uncles and cousins and aunts and one grand- 
mother ; America which was somehow different from China, 
and said to be better. 

One day father had been reading a new number of some 
magazine — Scribner's, I think — and we had been climb- 
ing over him, asking questions about the pictures. Then 
he told us that in America, in a city called Philadelphia 
(a place just about as big as the Chinese city we were 
living in) they were planning to have a celebration of the 
hundredth birthday of the Declaration of Independence, 
and that a hundredth birthday was called a Centennial. 



THE 8T0EY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 159 

Thousands of people were going to the celebration from 
all parts of the United States, and Aunt Margaret herself 
was going. 

"Why weren't they going to have a Centennial celebra- 
tion in China so that we could go? The question gave 
father an idea. 

''We will have a celebration ... on the Fourth of 
July ... at our house. We'll put up a pole in the 
yard and fly the American flag." After a moment he 
added: " Run and ask your mother whether we have a 
flag." 

Just think of it, Harry! Except in pictures you and 
I had never seen the American flag ! And I was six years 
old! Queer, isn't it, that when missionaries pack their 
trunks for a foreign land, they so often forget to put in a 
flag? It isn't because they are the least bit unpatriotic; 
others of them besides father fought in the Civil War. I 
suppose that it didn't occur to our parents that they 
wouldn't always see the old flag just the same as at home. 
But when they discovered that their children were growing 
up without a star-spangled banner, it gave them a shock. 
I remember yet how emphatically father said, " Well, I 
declare ! ' ' when we brought back word from mother that 
we had no flag. ''Perhaps we can borrow one," he said. 
But we could not. There must have been at least twenty 
Americans, adults and children, living in that Chinese 
city, and among them all there was not to be found an 
American flag. Doubtless flags can be bought now in 
Shanghai; they could not be purchased in China in those 



160 STOEY-TELLING 

days. There was no way for us to get a flag in time for 
the Fourth of July, except to make it. 

So mother bought some pieces of Chinese cotton in white 
and red and dark blue, and for days her spare time was 
spent in making a jolly big flag. Do you remember our 
puzzle-map of the United States? Someone had sent it to 
us. Not a bad idea, either! It was dissected into blocks 
by the state boundaries. We had put it together often, 
like any other puzzle. While mother sewed the thirteen 
red and white stripes of the flag, we learned the names of 
the thirteen original colonies, hunted them out and fitted 
them together. The blue square with the stars took mother 
the longest time to make. There were so many stars, Harry 
— but not nearly so many as there are now. Each star 
had to be cut with five points, so mother insisted. Do 
you recall what a knack mother had at cutting five-pointed 
stars? It's really quite a trick. I remember how I tried 
it over and over again with pieces of paper. My stars 
always came out lop-sided. It took mother a long while to 
stitch all those stars neatly on the blue square ; and we 
liad plenty of time to pick out a state for each star and 
build up our puzzle-map. One of the stars was for Ohio. 
It was our particular star, and the Ohio of the puzzle-map 
grew familiar and very badly thumbed. That was where 
our grandmother and uncles and aunts and cousins lived. 
We would go there sometime ourselves ! 

When the flag was finished, it seemed to us very big 
and splendid. The Stars and Stripes ! Do you know, 
Harry, often when I hear those words, I get to thinking of 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 161 

the hours of patient cutting and putting together of our 
first flag. But I believe it was worth our mother's while, 
for every stitch seemed to fasten in our hearts sentiment 
for America. It made us love the United States as we can 
never love any other country, Harry. 

Tell me: Do you remember any fire-crackers connected 
with that Fourth of July ? I don 't either ; and fire-crackers 
are so common in China. I remember the annual hubbub 
of fire-crackers at the Chinese New Year. And you remem- 
ber, don't you, the time when a lot of the Chinese notables 
came to our compound to nail a complimentary inscription 
over the gate, because of the good work father had done 
in the mission hospital? Then they made speeches and 
fired fire-crackers. But I don't think we had any fire- 
crackers that Fourth of July. Perhaps we thought they 
were too Chinese to introduce into our American Fourth. 

I believe every American in that big city, man, woman, 
and child, came to our celebration of the Centennial. But 
that was not many. Do you think there were more than 
twenty-five, counting the children ? There were three Amer- 
ican missions, and only a family or two at each mission. 
Most of them came in sedan chairs which were put down 
at our front gate. I recall how you and I listened for 
every thumping of the big knocker on the gate, and how 
we ran down the walk to see who it was the gate-keeper 
admitted to the compound. 

The parlor looked quite pretty that day. Mother had 
taste in putting flowers about a room; and Chinese vases 
make even flowers look prettier. In the center of the room 



162 STORY-TELLING 

hung " 1876," done in orange leaves on a base of card- 
board ; I watched mother do it. Years afterwards she used 
to tell how old Dr. Gray of the Southern Mission took her 
pleasantly to task for putting up " 1876;" why not 
" 1776? " That was the important date. Mother made 
excuses for her stupidity. But when the dining-room 
doors were opened, there hung " 1776 " in green figures 
over the table. Mother never lost her relish for that little 
joke on old Dr. Gray. 

I suppose we ate such a dinner as children do on their 
great occasions. Do you remember anything about that 
dinner, Harry? The one thing I remember is ice-cream. 
It was the first time I had ever tasted ice-cream. I 've 
often wondered how mother got the ice in July in a Chinese 
city; but ice-cream we had. I didn't like it; it gave me 
a queer pain in my head ! 

The best part of our Centennial celebration came after 
dinner. Carefully laid away in a place known to you and 
me, was the American flag. The bamboo pole was already 
planted in the front yard. The grown people and the 
children all went out of doors, and you and I, Harry, 
carried out the flag. Father helped us run it up the pole, 
where it flapped splendidly. All the men and boys took off 
their hats, and one of the ladies sang " The Star-Spangled 
Banner." 

Do you know, Harry, I wish I had that flag now — with 
the seams up and down the stripes, and its stitched-on stars. 
I suppose when we came to the United States on father's 
furlough, it was given to some other American children. 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLROOM 163 

If American flags continued to be scarce in China, it must 
have worn to a rag long ago. But, Harry, if we could 
have it now, we would cherish it as veterans do the battle- 
flags of their regiment. — Lyon Sharman. 

How June Found Mass a Linkum * 

June laid down her knives upon the scrubbing board, 
and stole softly out into the yard. Madame Joilet was 
taking a nap upstairs, and, for a few minutes at least, the 
coast seemed to be quite clear. 

Who was June? and who was Madame Joilet? 

June was a little girl who had lived in Richmond ever 
since she could remember, who had never been outside of 
the city's boundaries, and who had a vague idea that the 
North lay just above the Chickahominy Eiver and the Gulf 
of Mexico about a mile below the James, She could not 
tell A from Z, nor the figure 1 from 40. 

Somebody asked June once how old she was. 

' ' 'Spect I 's a hundred — dunno, ' ' she said gravely. 

Exactly how old she was nobody knew. She was not 
tall enough to be more than seven, but her face was like 
the face of a little old woman. It was a queer little face, 
with thick lips and low forehead, and great mournful eyes. 
There was something strange about those eyes. Whenever 
they looked at one, they seemed to cry right out, as if they 
had a voice. But no one in Richmond cared about that. 
Nobody cared about June at all. If she broke a teacup 

* Reprinted from Junior Classics with the permission of P. F. 
Collier & Son. 



164 STORY-TELLING 

or spilled a mug of coffee, she had her ears boxed, or was 
shut up iu a terrible dark cellar, where the rats were as 
large as kittens. If she tried to sing a little, in her sorrowful, 
smothered way, over her work, Madame Joilet shook her 
for making so much noise. When she stopped, she scolded 
her for being sulky. She had not half enough to eat, nor 
half enough to wear. What was worse than that, she had 
nobody to kiss, and nobody in all the wide world to care 
whether she lived or died, except a half-starved kitten 
that lived in the woodshed. For June was black, and a 
slave ; and this French woman, Madame Joilet, was her 
mistress. 

That there had been a war, June gathered from old 
Creline, who told her ghost stories. What it was all about, 
she did not know. Madame Joilet said some terrible giants, 
called Yankees, were coming down to eat up all the little 
black girls in Richmond. Creline said that the Yankees were 
the Messiah's people, and were coming to set the negroes 
free. 

Now, this morning, Creline had whispered mysteriously 
to June, as she went up the street to sell some eggs for 
Madame Joilet, that Massa Linkum was coming that very 
day. June knew nothing about those grand, immortal 
words of his which had made every slave in Richmond 
free; it had never entered Madame Joilet 's plan that she 
should know. 

While her mistress was safely asleep upstairs, she had 
stolen out to watch for the wonderful sight. She was 



THE 8T0KY IN THE SCHOOLROOM 165 

standing there on tiptoe on the fence, in her little ragged 
dress, with the black kitten in her arms, when a great 
crowd turned a corner, tossed up a cloud of dust, and 
swept up the street. There were armed soldiers with glit- 
tering uniforms, and there were flags flying, and merry- 
voices shouting, and huzzas and blessings distinct upon 
the air. There were long lines of dusky faces upturned, 
and wet with happy tears. There were angry faces, too, 
scowling from windows, and lurking in dark corners. 

June. stood still, and held her breath to look, and saw 
in the midst of it all, a tall man dressed in black. He 
had a thin, white face, sad-eyed and kindly and quiet, and 
he was bowing and smiling to the people on either side. 

" God bress yer, Massa Linkum, God bress yer ! " shouted 
the happy voices. June laughed outright for glee, and 
lifted up her little thin voice and cried, ' Bress yer, Massa 
Linkum ! ' ' with the rest, and knew no more than the kitty 
what she did it for. 

The great man turned, and saw June standing alone in 
the sunlight, the fresh wind blowing her ragged dress, her 
little black shoulders just reaching to the top of the fence, 
her wide-open, mournful eyes, and the kitten squeezed in 
her arms. And he looked right at her, oh, so kindly ; and 
and gave her a smile all to herself — one of his rare smiles, 
with a bit of a quiver in it — and bowed, and was gone. 

" Take me ' long wid yer, Massa Linkum, Massa Lin- 
kum ! ' ' called poor June faintly. But no one heard her ; 
and the crowd swept on, and June's voice broke into a 



166 STOEY-TELLING 

cry, and the hot tears came, and she laid her face down 
on Hungry to hide them. You see, in all her life, no one 
had ever looked so at June before. 

" June, June, come here! " called a sharp voice from 
the house. But June was sobbing so hard she did not hear. 

' ' Venez ici — vite, vite ! June ! Voila ! The little nig- 
ger will be the death of me. She tears my heart. June, 
vite, I say! " 

June started, and jumped down from the fence, and 
ran into the house with great frightened eyes. 

" I just didn't mean to, noways, missus. I want to see 
Massa Linkum, an' he look at me, an' I done forget ebery- 
ting. missus, don't beat me dis yere time, an' I'll 
neber — " 

But Madame Joilet interrupted her with a box on the 
ear, and dragged her upstairs. There was a terrible look 
on Madame 's face. Just what happened upstairs, I have 
not the heart to tell you. 

That night, June was crouched, sobbing and bruised, 
behind the kitchen stove, when Creline came in on an 
errand for her mistress. Madame Joilet was obliged to 
leave the room for a few minutes, and the two were alone 
together. June crawled out from behind the stove. ^' I 
see him — I see Massa Linkum, Creline. ' ' 

' ' De Lord bress him f oreber 'n eber. Amen 1 " exclaimed 
Creline fervently, throwing up her old thin hands. 

" Creline, what's he done gone come down here fur? 
Am he de Messiah? " 

' ' Bress yer soul, chile ! don ' ye know better 'n dat ar ? " 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLROOM 167 

'* Don' know nuffin, " said June sullenly. " Neber knows 
nuffin; 'spects I neber 's gwine to. Can' go out in de road 
to fine out — she beat me. Can' ask nuffin — she jest gib 
me a push down cellar. Creline, der's seek rats down dar 
now — dar is ! " 

' ' Yer poor critter ! ' ' said Creline, with great contempt 
for her ignorance. ' ' Why, Massa Linkum, eberybody knows 
'bout he. He's done gone made we free — whole heap 
on we. ' ' 

' ' Free ! ' ' echoed June, with puzzled eyes. 

" Laws, yes, chile; 'pears like yer's drefful stupid. Yer 
don' b'long — " Creline lowered her voice to a mysterious 
whisper, and looked carefully at the closed door — ' ' yer 
don' b'long to Missus Jully no more dan she b'long to you, 
an ' dat 's de truf e now, 'case Massa Linkum say so — God 
bress him ! " 

Just then Madame Joilet came back. 

" What's that you're talking about? " she said sharply. 

" June was jes' sayin' what a heap she tink ob you, 
missus," said Creline with a grave face. 

June lay awake a long time that night, thinking about 
Massa Linkum, and the wonderful news Creline had 
brought, and wondering when Madame Joilet would tell her 
that she was free. 

But many days passed, and Madame said nothing about 
it. Creline 's son had left his master and gone North. 
Creline herself had asked and obtained scanty wages for 
her work. A little girl, not a quarter of a mile away, 
whose name June had often heard, had just found her 



168 STOEY-TELLING 

father, who had been sold away from her years ago, and 
had come into Richmond with the Yankee soldiers. But 
nothing had happened to June. She was whipped and 
scolded and threatened and frightened and shaken just 
as she had been ever since she could remember. She was 
kept shut up like a prisoner in the house, with Madame 
Joilet's cold gray eyes forever on her, and her sharp voice 
forever in her ear. And still not a word was said about 
Massa Linkum and the beautiful freedom he had given to 
all such as little June, and not a word did June dare to 
say. 

But June tJionght. Madame Joilet could not help that. 
If Madame had known just what June was thinking, she 
would have tried hard to help it. 

Well, so the days passed, and the weeks, and still Madame 
said not "a word, and June worked and cried. But June 
had not done all her thinking for nothing. 

One night Creline was going by the house, when June 
called to her softly through the fence. 

"Creline!" 

" What's de matter? " said Creline, who was in a great 
hurry. 

" I 's gwine to fine Massa Linkum — don ' yer tell no- 
body." 

' ' Law 's a massy, what a young un dat ar chile is ! " 
said Creline, thinking that June had just waked up from 
a dream, and forthwith forgetting all about her. 

Madame Joilet always locked June in her room, which 
was nothing but a closet with a window in it, and a heap 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 169 

of rags for a bed. On this particular night she turned the 
key as usual, and then went to her own room at the other 
end of the house, where she was soon soundly asleep. 

About eleven o'clock, when all the house was still, the 
window of June's closet softly opened. There was a roofed 
doorway just underneath it, with an old grape-vine trellis 
running up one side of it. A little dark figure stepped 
out timidly on the narrow, steep roof, clinging with its 
hands to keep its balance, and then down upon the trellis, 
down which it began to crawl slowly. The trellis creaked 
and shook and cracked, but it held on, and June held 
on, and dropped softly down, gasping and terrified at what 
she had done, all in a little heap on the grass below. 

She lay there a moment perfectly still. She could not 
catch her breath at first, and she trembled so that she 
could not move. 

Then she crept along on tiptoe to the woodshed. She 
could not go without Hungry. She went in, and called 
in a faint whisper. The kitten knew her, dark as it was, 
and ran out from the woodpile with a joyful mew, to rub 
itself against her dress. 

* ' We 's gwine to fine Massa Linkum, you an ' me, bof two 
togeder, ' ' said June. 

" Pur! pur-r-r! " said Hungry, as if she were quite 
content; and June took her up in her arms, and laughed 
softly. 

She went out of the woodshed and out of the yard, hush- 
ing the soft laugh on her lips, and holding her breath 
as she passed under her mistress' window. She had heard 



170 STOEY-TELLING 

Creline say that Massa Linkum had gone back to the North ; 
so she walked up the street a little way, and then she turned 
aside into the vacant squares and unpaved roads, and so 
out into the fields where no one could see her. 

It was very still and very dark. The great trees stood 
up like giants against the sky, and the wind howled hoarsely 
through them, 

" I reckon 'tain't on'y little ways, Hungry," she said 
with a shiver ; " we '11 git dar 'fore long. Don ' be 'f raid. ' ' 

' * Pur ! pur-r-r ! ' ' said Hungry, nestling her head in 
warmly under June's arm. 

" 'Spect you lub me. Hungry — 'spect you does! " 

And then June laughed softly once more. What would 
Massa Linkum say to the kitty ? 

So she folded her arms tightly over Hungry 's soft fur, 
and trudged away into the woods. She never once doubted, 
in that foolish little trusting heart of hers, that he would 
be glad to see her, and Hungry too. 

So on and away, deep into the woods and swamps, she 
trudged cheerily ; and she sang low to Hungry, and Hungry 
purred to her. The night passed on and the stars grew 
pale, the woods deepened and thickened, the swamps were 
cold and wet, the brambles scratched her hands and feet. 

" It's jes' ober here little ways. Hungry," trying to 
laugh. " We'll fine him purty soon. I's terrible tired 
an ' — sleepy, Hungry. ' ' 

She sat down there on a heap of leaves to rest, and laid 
her head down upon her arm, and Hungry mewed a little 
and curled up in her neck. The next she knew, the sun 



THE STOEY IN THE SCHOOLROOM 171 

was shning. She jumped up frightened and puzzled, and 
then she remembered where she was, and began to think of 
breakfast. But there were no berries but the poisonous 
dog-wood, and nothing to be seen but leaves and grass 
and bushes. 

About noon they came to a bit of a brook. June scooped 
up the water in her hands, and Hungry lapped it with her 
pink tongue. 

" I didn't 'spect it was so fur," groaned poor June. 
" But don't yer be 'feared now, Hungry. 'Pears like 
we'll fine him berry soon." 

The sun went down, and the twilight came. No supper, 
and no sign of Massa Linkum yet. " We'll fine him, 
Hungry, sure, to-morrer. He'll jes' open de door and' 
let us right in, he will ; an ' he '11 hab breakf as ' all ready an ' 
waitin ' ; 'pears like he '11 hab a dish ob milk up in de 
corner for you now — tink o ' dat ar. Hungry ! ' ' and then 
the poor little voice that tried to be so brave broke down 
into a great sob. " Ef I on'y jes' had one little mouthful 
now. Hungry ! — on 'y one ! ' ' 

So another night passed, and another morning came. A 
faint noise woke June from her uneasy sleep, when the 
sun was hardly up. It was Hungry, purring loudly at 
her ear. A plump young robin lay quivering between her 
paws. She laid the poor creature down by June's face, 
looking proudly from June to it, saying as plainly as 
words could say, " Here's a fine breakfast. I got it on 
purpose for you. 

But June turned away her eyes and moaned ; and Hun- 



172 STOEY-TELLING 

gry, in great perplexity, made away with the robin herself. 

Presently June crawled feebly to her feet, and pushed 
on through the brambles. The kitten, purring in her 
arms, looked so happy and contented with her breakfast 
that the child cried out at the sight of it in sudden pain. 

" 0, I tought we'd git dar 'fore now, an' I tought he'd 
jes' be so glad to see us ! " — and then presently, " He jes' 
look so kinder smilin ' right out ob his eyes. Hungry ! ' ' 

A bitter wind blew from the east that day, and before 
noon the rain was falling, dreary and chilly and sharp. 
It soaked June's feet and ragged dress, and pelted in her 
face. 

Just as the early twilight fell from the leaden sky, she 
tripped over a little stone, fell weakly to the ground, and 
lay still. 

But somehow June felt neither troubled nor afraid. She 
lay there with her face upturned to the pelting rain, watch- 
ing it patter from leaf to leaf, listening to the chirp of 
the birds in the nests, listening to the crying of the wind. 
She liked the sound. She should like to lie there all night 
and listen to it; and then in the morning they would go 
on and find him — in the morning ; it would come very 
soon. 

The twilight deepened, and the night came on. The 
rain fell faster, and the sharp wind cried aloud. 

" It's bery cold," said June sleepily, and turned her 
face over to hide it on the kitten 's warm, soft fur. ' ' Goo ' 
night, Hungry. We'll git dar to-morrer, We's mos' dar. 
Hungry. 



THE STORY IN THE SCHOOLEOOM 173 

The rain fell faster, and the sharp wind cried aloud. The 
kitten woke from a nap, and purred for her to stir and 
speak ; but June said nothing more. 

Still the rain fell, and the wind cried; and the long 
night and the storm and the darkness passed, and the morn- 
ing came. 

Hungry stirred under June's arm, and licked her face, 
and mewed piteously at her ear. But June's arm lay still, 
and June said no word. 

Somewhere, in a land where there was never slave and 
never mistress, and where there were no more hungry days 
and frightened nights, little June was laughing softly, and 
had found some one to love her at last. And so she did not 
find JMassa Linkum after all ? Ah ! — who would have 
guessed it? To that place where June had gone, where 
there are no masters and no slaves, he had gone before her. 

And don 't I suppose his was the first face she saw, as she 
passed through the storm and the night to that waiting, 
beautiful place? And don't I suppose he smiled as he 
had smiled before, and led her gently to that other Face, 
of which poor little June had known nothing in all her life ? 
Of course I do. — Elizabeth Stuart Phelps. 



CHAPTER V 
STORIES AND PICTURE STUDY 

Picture study usually implies nothing more than look- 
ing at pictures for mere entertainment, or with more 
advanced students an examination of masterpieces for the 
purpose of becoming acquainted with the technique of the 
artist. The story-teller makes no use of the second of 
these methods of approach, but an extended use of the first. 
Pictures entertain, but each masterpiece has an additional 
interest in the story that is associated with it. A picture 
is the starting point for many an interesting narrative. The 
child may learn the story back of the picture, and some- 
thing of the life and work of the artist who painted it. 
And, like stories, pictures may be selected and arranged 
in an ordered sequence, so as to set forth the significant 
events in a life or in an epic. 

Perhaps the most beautiful and complete picture story 
one could arrange is that of the life of Christ, as shown 
in the pictures of the masters. 

"What follows is a tentative list, which may be supple- 
mented with other pictures, if you wish the cycle to be 
longer. All of these pictures may be purchased from the 
Perry Picture Co. 

174 



STORIES AND PICTURE STUDY 

The Announcement. PlockJiorst. 

The Holy Night. Correggio. 

Adoration of the Magi. Da Fabriano. 

Sistine Madonna. Raphael. 

Madonna of the Chair. Raphael. 

Mother and Child. Bodenhausen. 

Flight into Egypt. Diirer. 

Repose in Egypt. Van Dyck. 

Worship of the Wise Men. Hofmann. 

In the Temple with the Doctors. Hofmann. 

Christ and the Doctors. Hofmann. 

Christ Blessing Little Children. Hofmann. 

Driving out the Money Changers. Hofmann. 

Anointing Jesus' Feet. Hofmann. 

Teaching from a Boat. Hofmann. 

Christ's Entry into Jerusalem. Hofmann. 

Kiss of Judas. Geiger. 

Descent from the Cross. Rumens. 

Christ before Pilate. Munkacsy. 

The Resurrection. Naack. 

The Three Marys at the Tomb. Spurgenherg. 

Easter Morning. Plockhorst. 

Holy Women at the Tomb. Ender. 

Easter Morning. Hofmann. 



175 



The children should become familiar with at least fifteen 
or twenty masters. Of the Italian masters we might take : 
Leonardo Da Vinci (1452-1519), Michael Angelo (1475- 
1564), Titian (1477-1576), Raphael (1483-1520), Correggio 
(1494-1534) and Guido Reni (1575-1642). They should 
know something about the life of each one. Leonardo 
Da Vinci's great strength, both of mind and body, should 
be noted. 

A story should be made of the following incident of the 
Master Verrocchio and his pupil. 

Verrocchio commanded his pupil to paint in one of the 



176 STOEY-TELLING 

angel heads in a picture which he was hastily finishing. 
Seeing that his pupil could paint it better than he could 
have done, he hastily burned his brushes and palette and 
declared that he would never paint again. 

The two Da Vinci pictures that are best known, and of 
which the most should be made, are The Last Supper and 
Mona Lisa. 

Michael Angelo and Raphael might be studied together, 
for they were the leading artists of Rome and Florence in 
the sixteenth century, Michael Angelo loved architecture 
and sculpture better than painting, but at the command of 
the Pope he was obliged to drop the mallet and chisel to 
take up the brush, and adorn the ceiling of the Sistine 
chapel, though he told the Pope that this should be the 
work of the painter, Raphael. 

Like Michael Angelo, Raphael was a sculptor and archi- 
tect also, but we know him best as a painter. Look for a 
moment at two of his Madonnas, the Madonna della Sedia, 
or Madonna of the Chair, and the Sistine Madonna, per- 
haps the last picture of the Holy Family ever painted by 
a master artist. There is a beautiful story associated with 
the Madonna of the Chair. 

There was an old hermit who had but two friends, one a 
young girl named Mary, the daughter of a vine dresser, 
and the other an old oak tree which stood near his hut. A 
terrible storm destroyed the old man 's hut, and he was 
compelled to find a refuge in the tree. Mary took him 
to her home and cared for him. The oak tree was cut 
down, and casks were made from the wood. Before the 



STOKIES AND PICTURE STUDY 177 

old man died, he prayed that both of his friends might 
always be remembered. Mary was afterward married and 
became the mother of two beautiful children. One day the 
painter Raphael passed her home and saw Mary and her 
two children in her garden. He took the top of one of the 
casks standing near by (which happened to be one of the 
casks made from the hermit's oak tree) and sketched the 
group upon it. He carried it home and from this painted 
the Madonna della Sedia. The old hermit's prayer was 
answered. 

The Sistine Madonna is named for St. Sixtus. The left 
hand figure gives us the feeling of a divine moment in the 
lives of the people pictured. Perhaps one reason for this 
lies in the ethereal setting of the picture. The Madonna 
is standing upon and being lifted up by the clouds. St. 
Sixtus is looking in adoration upon the Mother and child, 
while St. Barbara upon the right is gazing down upon 
earth. The two cherubs at the bottom complete the unity 
of the picture. 

"While Michael Angelo and Raphael were working in 
Rome and Florence, Titian was working in Venice. The 
Venetian pictures were notable for their brilliant coloring, 
while perfection of line was of secondary importance. When 
Titian accepted the invitation of the Pope to come to 
Rome, Michael Angelo visited him in his studio. Michael 
Angelo admired the wonderful coloring of the Venetian 
painter, but deplored the fact that he could not draw better. 
The Roman painters believed that the secret of good art 
was in correct lines, while the Ventians thought more of 



178 STOEY-TELLING 

coloring. Titian's picture of St. Christopher is a wonder- 
ful representation of the old legend of the giant carrying 
the Christ child across the stream. The legend doubtless is 
familiar to all. 

Correggio's life and works differ from any other Italian 
artist we have considered. He was never placed under any 
great painter, but studied in an art school in Mantua. 
Correggio's Holy Night is familiar to all of us. The holy 
light radiates from the child in Mary's arms and lights 
up the mother 's face. At the left side are the figures of a 
shepherdess and two shepherds. The woman shades her 
face from the light with one hand, while with the other 
she holds her offering — two doves in a basket — for the 
Christ child. In the background is Joseph with the ass. 
Day is just breaking, as is indicated by the faint light in 
the East. Above circles an angelic choir. Correggio was 
very fond of painting cherubs, angels, and children. 

Guido Reni should be included in our list because he is 
the creator of the Aurora. This picture and the story it 
portrays should be known by every grammar grade child. 
How this picture enriches the old Greek stories ! Aurora, 
the Goddess of the Dawn, is opening the gates of the morn- 
ing for her brother Apollo, the sun god. Below is the 
earth wrapped in darkness, Apollo, in his chariot drawn 
by his impatient steeds, is surrounded by the hours in 
the form of graceful maidens. 

There are two Spanish artists with whom the children 
should be familiar: Velasquez (1599-1660) and Murillo 
(1617-1682). Velasquez was court painter for Philip IV. 



STOEIES AND PICTURE STUDY 179 

At the age of twenty-three his teacher advised him to leave 
Seville, his birthplace, and go to Madrid. He wished to 
see the King, but did not until some time later on his 
second visit. When the King saw one of Velasquez's por- 
traits, he sat for a portrait himself. So delighted was he 
with the finished picture that he kept Velasquez with him, 
fitting up a studio for the young painter in his palace. 

Soon Velasquez and his family were settled in Madrid. 
It was Rubens, the great Flemish artist, when on a visit 
to Madrid, who told Velasquez of the great masterpieces 
of Italian art. 

- Velasquez immediately asked for permission to go to 
Italy and see the masterpieces of these artists. After 
some argument Philip gave the wished-for permission, but 
exacted a promise from the artist that he would return to 
the Spanish court. In eighteen months the painter was 
called back by the impatient King. He continued to paint 
court pictures in Madrid until the end of his days. The 
court of King Philip IV is made familiar to us thru the 
pictures of Velasquez. 

Murillo's works differ very much from the Spanish 
master we have been considering. His subjects were usually 
children or religious subjects. He painted peasant chil- 
dren, while Velasquez depicted the children of the court. 
His conceptions were more imaginary, while those of 
Velasquez were true to life. We might say that Velasquez 
depicted realistic truth, while Murillo depicted symbolical 
truth. His Saint Anthony of Padua, the story of whose 
life Murillo was very fond, won for him the title " The 



180 STORY-TELLING 

Painter of Heaven." Murillo's Madonnas are very beau- 
tiful. 

"While Velasquez was painting royalty in the court of 
King Philip in Spain, Van Dyck, the Flemish painter, was 
performing a similar service for King Charles I of Eng- 
land. He had been summoned to England as court painter. 
Anthony Van Dyck had studied with the famous Rubens, 
and was considered his best pupil. 

We do not wish to pass Dutch Art without knowing at 
least one or two artists. Let us take Rembrandt, the 
painter of people, and Paul Potter, the painter of animals. 
In Rembrandt's work we are particularly drawn to the 
strong faces which he portrays. Paul Potter began his 
study of animal life very early, and at the age of fourteen 
he was able to paint with great success the animals he loved. 
His picture. The Bull, is one of his best. 

Of the English artists, let us consider Reynolds (1723- 
1792), Turner (1775-1851) and Landseer (1802-1873). Rey- 
nolds held the first place in the realm of portrait painters. 
Some of his pictures of children remind us very much of 
Murillo's children. He had the happy faculty of catching 
their attitudes while in play. Reynolds ' child pictures are 
particularly fascinating to children, and their imagina- 
tions often run riot in interpreting these pictures. One 
little lady of nine years, upon seeing Age of Innocence for 
the first time exclaimed, " Oh ! she must be looking straight 
into fairyland." 

Turner was a lover of color and never cared particularly 
for correct form. 



STOEIES AND PICTUEE STUDY 181 

Landseer, the animal painter, who has been called ' ' The 
Animal Story-teller of the Victorian Age, " is a great favor- 
ite with children. Each of his dog pictures, for which he 
is famous, tells a story. 

The French painters whom we wish to introduce to the 
children would certainly include Troyon (1810-1865), who 
received his inspiration as an animal painter from Paul 
Potter's pictures. He is considered one of the best painters 
of sheep and oxen, Corot (1796-1875) loved landscapes. 
His trees and foliage are distinctive. Children like his 
nature pictures. The two peasant painters, Millet (1814- 
1875), and Breton (b. 1827) should be studied together, 
so that their lives, their ideas, and their general effects 
may be compared. After a sixth grade class had been 
looking at the pictures of Millet and Breton, one child 
volunteered his impressions of the works of the two painters 
in some such words as these: " Millet's people look like 
real working people, and Breton's look like city folks 
dressed up to look like people who worked in the field." 
How true was that remark! Here certainly was a fine 
opportunity to give this class some of the facts of the lives 
of these two painters. 

Rosa Bonheur, who was the lover and painter of animals, 
is a favorite with the children. Her pictures, too, are 
stories of animals. What small boy has not wished for a 
horse like the Noble Charger? 

Of the American artists, our children should know some- 
thing of the work of "Whistler and Sargent. 

This list of artists is merely suggestive. There are 



182 STOEY-TELLING 

many more who contributed much to the world of art. 
The most familiar, and those whose subjects would appeal 
most to the childish mind, have determined the selection. 
Lack of space forbade considering these artists and their 
work more at length. The many little incidents which may 
be told about their lives should not be omitted when these 
artists are presented to the children. For example, take 
the story that is told of Landseer when he was presented 
to the King of Portugal. The King said, " Mr. Landseer, 
I am delighted to make your acquaintance. I am so fond 
of beasts." If the children forget Landseer for a time, 
this incident will recall him to their memories. Miss Amy 
Foote, of the State Teachers' College of Colorado, has 
made picture study very attractive for her group of sixth 
grade children by using the following plan. In order to 
gain the interest of the children, several pictures by the 
same artist were shown them and then a little bit of the life 
of the artist, or some of his characteristics were given in 
an attractive manner. These pictures were placed where 
the children could see them, and others by the same artist, 
every day or two. The children began to ask questions 
and became very much interested in both the painter and 
the pictures. Gradually some of the technique of the work 
was considered — unity, balance, rhythmical lines, and 
atmosphere. These technical matters were not given to the 
children all at once. Unity was introduced to the class in 
the picture. The Return to the Farm, by Tryon, in the 
following manner: " Which cow do you think Troyon 
liked best? Why? " The pupils agreed upon the white 



STOEIES AND PICTUEE STUDY 183 

COW, but the second question brought forth a variety of 
answers, the majority of which contributed something 
worth while to the subject under discussion. Then the 
teacher showed how every picture had its center of interest 
— a unit toward which all other figures and lines in the 
picture pointed. " Men like Millet and Corot, " she said, 
' ' did not have any great difficulty in arranging the figures 
and lines in their pictures. But those men who were court 
painters like Van Dyck, who painted the children of King 
Charles and many other royal groups, had difficulty. I 
wonder why? Immediately several hands went up, and 
one small boy answered excitedly, " Because they'd all 
wanted to be the unity. ' ' 

Some of Millet's pictures show balance very effectively. 
For instance, cover up the small figure of the horse and 
rider in the background on the right-hand side in The 
Gleaners, by Millet. Show the picture to the class. Deter- 
mine whether or not they feel that something is gone. 
The same may be done with The Woman Churning. Cover 
the doorway and the chicken entering the house. Here 
you can also introduce atmosphere. The glimpse that you 
caught through the door gave distance to the picture, thus 
creating a third dimension. Draw from the children the 
various ways of showing atmosphere, such as the employ- 
ment of light and shade, more detail, and the use of sub- 
dued landscapes and figures appearing in the background. 

The children in this grade finally asked how they might 
get copies of pictures for themselves. They were delighted 
when they found out that very good copies could be had 



184 STOEY-TELLING 

for a cent apiece. Each one asked for a Perry Picture 
Catalogue. They then decided to take up the artists accord- 
ing to Nationality, beginning with the Italian Masters. 
Then they began to look for contemporaries in other coun- 
tries. So the class really planned the work themselves. 
However, they were fortunate in having very efficient 
directing. Each child sent for the three or four pictures 
which he liked best. Finally each one made a collection 
of his favorite pictures. The plan of studying two or three 
pictures of an artist carefully and placing numerous others 
where the child could see them was continued throughout 
the year, and whenever the picture represented a legend or 
had some interesting bit of story connected with it, that was 
given to the children in narrative form. The year's work 
proved very profitable and also developed a new interest 
for the children. 

The pictures which illustrate a story would naturally be 
the first ones used in the story hour. The picture read- 
ing which is so apt to be abused should be used with care. 
If the whole story which the teacher extracts laboriously 
from the child by means of questions is fictitious, the child 
will not remember that teacher very kindly. However, if 
a picture suggests something to the child, and he has spon- 
taneously given his own interpretation, why not allow his 
imagination some freedom? One person may see much 
more in a picture than another. We could not really say 
that the little girl in Age of Innocence is looking into fairy- 
land, nor can we say positively that she is not; and if 
those childish eyes see fairyland, why not leave them both 



STOEIES AND PICTURE STUDY 185 

in fairyland? If the child has a rude awakening some 
day, still she will never regret the days she and Reynolds' 
picture-child spent in the land of fairies. 

Miss Estelle Hurll in her delightful little book entitled 
" How to Show Pictures to Children," tells us of the use of 
picture posing. This is well worth a trial in any school- 
room. 

A list of pictures which may be used purely as illus- 
trative material in the story hour is appended : 

1. Leonardo da Vinci. 

The Last Supper. 

2. Titian. 

The Tribute Money. 
Saint Christopher. 

3. Raphael. 

School of Athens. 

Saint Peter in Prison. 

Saint Catherine. 

Saint Cecilia. 

Sistine Madonna. 

(Stories of Saint Barbara and Saint Sixtus 
may be used with this picture.) 

The Transfiguration. 

Madonna of the Chair. 

4. Correggio. 

Holy Night. 

Repose in Egypt. 

Marriage of Saint Catherine. 

5. Ouido Reni. 

Saint Michael and the Dragon. 
Aurora. 

6. Rubens. 

Descent from the Cross, 



186 STOEY-TELLING 

7. Van Dijck. 

Portrait of Charles I. 
Children of Charles I. 
Baby Stuart. 

8. Velasquez. 

Prince Balthazar. 
Portrait of Aesop. 

9. Murillo. 

Saint Anthony of Padua. 
Christ Feeding the Multitude. 
Saint John and the Lamb. 
Saint Francis of Assisi. 

10. Remhrandt. 

Christ Blessing the Little Children. 
Sacrifice of Abraham. 

11. Reynolds. 

Angel Heads. 

The Infant Samuel. 

12. Turner. 

Dido Building Carthage. 
Ulysses Deriding Polyphemus. 

13. Millet. 

The Angelus. 

Christ in the Temple 

Hoffman has painted a wonderful picture called, " Christ 
Among the Doctors." 

The Jewish law required that every man attend three 
feasts a year in Jerusalem: Passover, Pentecost, and Tab- 
ernacles. Now when Jesus was twelve years old he went 
with his parents, Mary and Joseph, to Jerusalem to the 
Feast of the Passover. The feast, as you doubtless know, 



STOEIES AND PICTUEE STUDY 187 

was always kept in memory of the time when Pharaoh 
would not allow the Children of Israel to leave Egypt, and 
God sent the Angel of Death to take the eldest born in 
the homes of all the Egyptians. The angel passed over 
the homes of the Israelites, which were marked with a 
cross of the blood of a lamb. Very likely Jesus had gone 
to Jerusalem with his parents before, but this was a 
notable journey, for in the eyes of the Jewish Law he 
ceased to be a child at the age of twelve and became sub- 
ject to the law. 

When the seven days of feasting were over, the people 
started homeward. Mary could not find her son ; but since 
there were a great many people from Nazareth, she and 
Joseph supposed that he was with some of their kinsmen or 
friends. They usually started home at night to avoid the 
heat of the day ; so it would be doubly hard to find anyone 
in the caravan. The next day Mary searched among her 
friends and relatives, and not finding Jesus with them, she 
and Joseph turned back to Jerusalem to look for him. 
They searched everywhere, and finally on the third day 
found him in the Temple listening to the teachings of the 
rabbis and doctors. He not only listened but asked ques- 
tions also. His questions showed marvelous understanding, 
and the learned doctors were very much surprised. Here, 
indeed, was a most unusual child. 

This is the incident which Hoffman takes for his great 
painting. Notice the earnest expression upon the face of 
the boy ; how he is looking straight into the eyes of the old 
rabbi who is evidently expounding passages of the law. 



188 STOEY-TELLING 

We can imagine that he has just asked a question concern- 
ing a passage of the scripture, for his left hand is point- 
ing to the book, which is open in the lap of the rabbi. 
Perhaps the rabbi to the right of the one seated is explain- 
ing a passage, for he holds his hand as tho expounding the 
scriptures. The old rabbi leaning upon his staff looks with 
admiration upon the youth, while the one leaning upon 
the table looks rather sceptically upon him, as though he 
wondered whether or not it was well for one of his years 
to be so wise in his understanding of the Holy Books. 

Upon such a scene as this Mary enters, and perhaps 
being tired and worried, she asks her son, " Why hast 
thou thus dealt with us? " And he answers her, " How 
is it that ye sought me ? Wist ye not that I must be about 
my Father's business? " What more natural than that 
finding himself alone in Jerusalem he should go to the 
Temple, which was God His Father 's house ? We are told 
that he then returned home with them and was subject to 
them, growing in stature and in the knowledge of the Lord. 

— Nellie Margaret Statler. 

The Story op Saint Christopher * 

Once upon a time, a long time ago, beyond the seas, 
there lived a boy named Christopher. As he grew up he 
was unusually strong and giant-like. He drove the cattle 
to field and lived in the mountains and on the plans. Being 

* Reprinted by permission of the Storyteller's Magazine, and 
Mr. R. T. Wyche from the Storytellers' Magazine, July, 1913. 



STOEIES AND PICTURE STUDY 189 

alone much of his time, he had little opportunity for play 
or sport with other children ; and when he came home, his 
parents did not play with him or entertain him, and so 
he sought recreation where he could find it in other places. 
He was full of energy, and his parents frequently scolded 
him. This drove him off to himself in bad moods. On one 
occasion he tied the cows' tails together, just to hear them 
bellow. On another occasion he set fire to a forest, all in 
sport, because he had no one to join him in better things. 
His stepmother scolded him and punished him so that he 
would frequently go away alone or join bad companions in 
mischief. Finally, one day, quarreling with a man, he 
killed him, because of his greater strength. 

Fearing to return home, he wandered in strange lands, 
sometimes working for his living, and sometimes living 
on what was given him. Wherever he went people admired 
his broad shoulders and manly form, for he was giant-like 
in size. 

One day he heard of the Emperor of Germany, who was 
king and the mightiest man in all the world. As Chris- 
topher admired and worshiped strength, he wanted to see 
and to serve the Emperor. At last, after long journeys, 
he came and stood before the German Emperor and offered 
his services. The Emperor was at that time waging wars 
for his kingdom, and when he saw Christopher, giant-like 
and strong, he admired him and readily accepted his serv- 
ices, taking him along as a body guard. Christopher 
was delighted, and threw his whole strength into the service 
of the Emperor, and did many wonderful deeds. 



190 STOEY-TELLING 

So strong was Christopher that frequently he would bear 
on his shoulders great logs, and place them across gullies 
and ravines, to build a bridge for the army to pass over. 
The Emperor frequently talked with him and encouraged 
him, all of which immensely pleased Christopher, for he 
thought, " I have at last found him who is most worthy 
of worship and service," 

But on one occasion as the Emperor was riding near a 
forest, Christopher noticed that the Emperor made the sign 
of the cross and turned aside from the dark forest and went 
in another direction. Christopher said to the Emperor, 
' ' Why did you turn back from the forest ? ' ' 

The Emperor said, ' ' The devil lives in that forest, and I 
fear him." 

" What, " said Christopher, " afraid? I thought that 
you were afraid of nothing! " 

But the Emperor said, ' ' This demon of darkness is very 
strong, and I fear him. ' ' 

Then Christopher said, '' If you are afraid, I wish to 
leave your service and join myself to the devil; because 
I do not want to serve any but the strongest. ' ' Whereupon 
the Emperor paid Christopher his wages and reluctantly 
parted with him. 

Christopher turned his face toward the dark forest, 
plunged into its depths, and finally found a black altar, 
whereon the devil had sacrified the bodies of people. Hard 
by he found the devil and offered his services to him. 
Right gladly the devil took him into his fellowship, and 
straightway took him out upon his forays of deviltry and 



STOEIES AND PICTUEE STUDY 191 

mischief. But one day they came along by a hill in an 
Eastern land. On the top of the hill there stood three 
crosses. The devil turned aside as if in fear. Christopher 
was quick to notice this. He said to the devil, " Why 
are you afraid? " 

Then the devil said, ** On that middle cross was cruci- 
fied a man who is greater than I, and I fear him. ' ' 

*' What," Christopher said, " you afraid? Why, then, 
I am done with you; I want to serve him who is not 
afraid. ' ' 

And so he parted from the devil ; and as he went away, 
the devil laughed and mocked him. Christopher wan- 
dered a long time, inquiring here and there for the man 
who had died upon the cross. Finally, one day he found 
a priest, who lived in a cave that opened upon a beauti- 
ful river. Tired, footsore, and weary, he sat down at 
the invitation of the priest, who brought him refreshing 
water from the spring and gave him food. After he had 
rested a moment, he said to the priest, " Can you tell 
me about the man who died on the cross? " for Chris- 
topher had never heard of this man until the devil had 
told him. 

*' Yes," said the priest, " right gladly will I tell you 
the story of his life." 

Then the priest told Christopher how the man ^of G&-1- 
ilee had lived, and toiled, and suffered to make the world 
better, and how he had been crucified, dead, and had 
risen again. The story was a new and beautiful one to 
Christopher. The wonder of it ! The priest told him that 



192 STOEY-TELLING 

though this man was dead, his spirit was still in the 
world to make the world better. Then Christopher said 
to the priest, " He is the one that I wish to serve. How 
can I serve him? " Then the priest said, " You see this 
river? There is no bridge for the people to cross; it is 
wide and at times dangerous. If you would serve him, 
help those who try to cross the river. You are tall, with 
broad shoulders and mighty strength. Day after day 
people as they travel through this land come to this 
river, but cannot cross. You can help them across, and 
in that way you will serve him who, though dead, still 
lives." 

That pleased Christopher so much that he built a house 
of logs and boughs by the river's side, and when peopl-e 
came to the river he would wade through the water, 
take them on his shoulders and bear them across. Years 
passed by; Christopher grew gray in the service of 
humanity and his Master. Those who saw him day after 
day admired him and looked for him, and he became a 
friend of all the country, loved by all. 

One dark night when Christopher lay upon his bed, 
he heard someone calling, like the voice of a child, " Oh, 
Christopher, kind, good Christopher, come and help me 
across! " 

' Christopher arose from his bed and seizing his great 
staff, waded through the water until he reached the other 
side of the river ; but there he found no one ; all was 
silent save the ripple and murmur of the waves along 



STOEIES AND PICTUEE STUDY 193 

the river's margin. " Strange," he said, '' I thought 1 
heard some one calling." 

After looking all around, he said : ''I must have been 
mistaken," and waded back through the water to the 
other side of the river and lay down upon his couch again. 
But soon thereafter he heard the same voice calling : 
" Oh, Christopher, kind, good Christopher, come and help 
me across! " 

" Strange," said Christopher to himself, '' some one 
must be there." And seizing his staff he again crossed 
the river. 

But no one could he find ; all was silent. Above his head 
the stars shone and he said to himself, " Strange it is 
that I cannot find him who called me." 

He went across the river and lay do.wn upon his bed 
again. He had not been lying there long before he heard 
the voice calling him a third time: *' Oh! Christopher, 
kind, good Christopher, come and help me across! " 

Christopher sat upon his bed — he was troubled. 
" Strange," he said, " some one calls me, and yet I cannot 
find him." But again seizing his staff, he said: *' I 
will make one more trip." AVhen he reached the other 
side of the river, there he saw a little boy, and he said, 
" My little man, where were you? Twice I crossed the 
river to find you. ' ' 

The little boy said, " I was here." 

And then Christopher bent low and took the little man 
upon his shoulders and waded through the water, but the 



194 STORY-TELLING 

boy grew heavier until he seemed as heavy as a man. 
When Christopher reached the other side and put him 
down, and turned to look to see why what seemed to be 
a little child should be so heavy — lo! he was more than 
a child. There stood in his presence a man young in 
appearance, with a shining face, and he said to Chris- 
topher, ' ' I am he whom you serve ; bury your staff, and 
after a certain number of days buds will appear thereon." 
Then he disappeared, vanishing as a mist, or as a shadow, 
though Christopher saw not. He went and lay down upon 
his couch and slept in great peace of mind and body. 

Years passed. Christopher was still beloved by all the 
people and faithful to his work, but his days were num- 
bered. Though somewhat feeble, he still bore the people 
on his shoulders across the river. One dark, stormy night, 
when the wind roared through the tree tops, and the rain 
fell, Christopher, lying upon his bed, heard a voice call. 
He tried to rise and answer ; he did go in response to the 
voice, but it was his spirit only that went; the last call 
had come to him. 

The next morning the storm was gone and the sky was 
blue. People came to cross the river and called as usual to 
Christopher, but there was no response. They thought 
perhaps he was asleep and went to the cottage. There 
they found him — asleep, but it was the long sleep. And 
a smile was on his face. Because of his service to the 
people they afterwards called him Saint Christopher. 

— Richard Thomas Wyche. 



CHAPTER VI 
STOEIES FOR BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIRE GIRLS 

While the activities of Boy Scouts and Campfire Girls 
are quite largely physical and in the open, there is a 
place for stories, and there are many stories exactly suited 
to their needs. When groups of boys and girls are in 
camp, there is a natural story-hour around the fire after 
supper. And even at home while the scouts and girls 
are getting their training, stories form one of the most 
impressive means of emphasizing the lessons of these 
organizations. There are stories especially suited to 
impress the points of the Scout Law, and others applic- 
able to the Law of the Campfire. Where Sunday after- 
noon meetings of these organizations are held, frequently 
the first part of the afternoon is given over to segre- 
gated meetings of the two groups, but the last half hour 
is devoted to a joint meeting of both boys and girls. 
The oral story is the best means of entertaining and 
instructing in such a meeting of the two groups. Suitable 
stories may be found in abundance for this story-hour. 

What immediately follows is a statement of the points 
in the Scout Law, with the titles of some stories which 
may be told in the evening gatherings of the Scouts while 
they are being instructed in the law. While only a story 

195 



196 STOEY-TELLING 

or two is mentioned here, the titles will suggest the type 
that is suitable for such groups. The Scout Master will 
have no trouble in finding other stories to impress each 
point in the law. 

The Scout Law 

V 

1. A Scout Is Trustworthy. 

" The Knights of the Silver Shield," 

by Raymond McDonald Alden, in ' ' Why the Chimes 

Rang." 
" The Story of a Forest Fire," 

by Baymond S. Spears. 

2. A Scout Is Loyal. 

' ' The Ride of Paul Revere, ' ' 

by Emelyn Newcomb Partridge and George Everett 
Partridge, in ' ' Story Telling in Home and School. ' ' 

" Saint Martin," 

by Amy Steedman,, in ' ' In God 's Garden. ' ' 

3. A Scout Is Helpful. 

" The Happy Prince," 
by Oscar Wilde. 

4. A Scout Is Friendly. 

" The Selfish Giant," 

by Oscar Wilde. 
" A Christmas Carol," 

by Charles Dickens. 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIELS I97 

5. A Scout Is Courteous. 

" Hans and the Wonderful Flower," 

adapted by Carolyn 8. Bailey, in " For the Chil- 
dren's Hour." 

*' The Miracle of Love," 
by lola Gertrude Waller, in the Storytellers' Mag- 
azine, November, 1913. 

" The Legend of the Dipper," 

adapted by Carolyn 8. Bailey, in " For the Chil- 
dren's Hour." 

6. A Scout Is Kind. 

" The Wheat Field," 

by Laura E. Richards, in ' ' The Golden Windows. ' ' 
" The King of the Golden Kiver," 

by John Buskin. 

7. A Scout Is Obedient. 

" Christ Among the Doctors," 
from " The New Testament." 
\y " The Christmas Thorn of Glastonbury," 

by Frances Jenkins Olcott, in " Good Stories for 
Great Holidays. ' ' 

8. A Scout Is Cheerful. 

" The Flower Magician," 

-by Mary H. Wade, in " The Wonder Workers." 
" Old Pipes and the Dryad," 
by Franklin B. Stockton. 



198 STOEY-TELLING 

9. A Scout Is Thrifty. 

'' The Ears of Wheat," 

The Brothers Grimm, in " German Household 
Tales." 

10. A Scout Is Brave. 

'' The Little Hero of Harlem," 

by Sara Cone Bryant, in " Best Stories to Tell to 

Children." 
" Two Hero Stories of the Civil War," 

by Ben La Bree, adapted by Frances J. Olcoit, in 

* ' Good Stories for Great Holidays. ' ' 

11. A Scout Is Clean. 

" The Choice of Hercules," 

by Xenophon, adapted by Frances J. Olcoit, in 
" Good Stories for Great Holidays." 

12. A Scout Is Reverent. 

'' The Boy Abraham," 

by E. N. and G. E. Partridge, in " Story Telling 
in Home and School." 
" The Master of the Harvest," 

by Margaret Gatty, in '' Parables from Nature," 

The following stories may be used in, a similar way to 
impress the points in the Law of the Campfire : 

The Law of the Campfire 
1. Seek Beauty. 

" The Great Stone Face," 

by Nathaniel Hawthorne, adapted by Carolyn 8. 
Bailey, in " For the Story Teller." 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIRE GIRLS 199 

" The Minstrel's Song," 

by Maud Lindsay, in " Mother Stories." 
' ' The Hunt for the Beautiful, ' ' 

by Raymond McDonald Alden, in ' ' Why the Chimes 

Rang." 

2. Give Service. 

" Where Love Is, There God Is Also," • 

by Count Lyof N. Tolstoy. 
" The Mansion," 

by Henry Van Dyke, in ' ' The Blue Flower. ' ' 

3. Pursue Knowledge. 

' ' Giant Energy and Fairy Skill, ' ' 

by Maud Lindsay, in " Mather Stories." 
' ' The Boy who Discovered the Spring, ' ' 

by Raymond McDonald Alden, in '' Why the Chimes 

Rang. ' ' 
' ' From a Far Country, ' ' 

by Laura E. Richards, in "■ The Golden Windows." 

4. Be Trustworthy. 

•' The Bamboo Cutter's Daughter," 

by Teresa Peirce Williston, in " Japanese Fairy 

Tales. ' ' Second series. 
" The Wedding Guests, " 

by Laura E. Richards, in " The Golden Windows." 

5. Hold on to Health. 

" Florence Nightingale," 
by Laura E. Richards. 



200 STOEY-TELLING 

6. Glorify Work. 

" The Star Child," 

by Oscar Wilde, in '' The Happy Prince and Other 

Fairy Tales." 
' ' The Vision of Anton the Clockmaker, ' ' 

by Walter A. Dyer. 

7. Be Happy. 

' ' Merry Twinkle and the Dwarf, ' ' 

by Allen Cross. 
" The Bluebird," 

retold by Georgene Faulkner in the Storytellers' 

Magazine, March, 1915. 
'' The Stonecutter," 

from Andrew Lang's " Crimson Fairy Book," in 

Edna Lyman's " Story Telling, What to Tell and 

How to Tell It." 

Other ethical stories which have been used to impress a 
lesson or to hold up an ideal are indicated below : 

1. To teach harmony in work: 

" The Ship that Found Herself," 

by Budyard Kipling. 
'' The Palace Made by Music," 

by Bayrmmd McDonald Alden, in ' ' Why the Chimes 

Rang." 

2. To teach the value of keeping- the door of your heart 

open: 

V " The Closing Door," 
by Maud Lindsay, 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIRLS 201 

' ' The Apron String, ' ' 

by Laura E. Richards, in ' ' The Golden Windows. ' ' 
" The Lost Word," 

by Henry Van Dyke, in " The Blue Flower." 

One of the pleasantest and most instructive series of 
stories which may be given to these two groups of chil- 
dren together is the Holy Grail Series. Most of the 
children know something about King Arthur and his 
Round Table. Beginning with their knowledge of these 
legends, a story-teller may arouse an interest in a closer 
study of the Story of the Grail by using some such 
series of stories as the following : 

1. A short history of the Grail and its meaning. 

2. The Christmas Thorn of Glastonbury. 

3. The Vision of Sir Launfal. James Russell Lowell. 
(Adapted.) 

4. The Holy Grail. Alfred Tennyson, in " Idylls of 
the King. ' ' 

5. The Story of Lohengrin, in " Stories of Great Musi- 
cians," by Scohey and Home. 

6. The Story of Parsifal. " Wagner Opera Stories," 
by Grace E. Barber. 

If possible use some of Wagner's opera music with 
these last two stories. Close this cycle with an exhibition 
of copies of the pictures of " The Quest of the Holy 
Grail," by Abbey, which form the famous mural frieze 
in the Boston Public Library. Curtis and Cameron pub- 



202 STOEY-TELLING 

lish an interpretation of these pictures by Ferris Greens- 
let. The volume contains copies of the pictures also. 

The Pictures Interpreted 

I. The first picture is The Vision of the Grail, which 
depicts the nun, with whom Galahad as an infant has 
been placed, kneeling while she holds the infant from her 
so that he may see the vision of the angel holding the 
covered grail. A white dove hovers above the angel 
holding in its beak a golden censer. The child is holding 
his hands toward the grail. 

II. The Oath of Knighthood. 

Galahad has just finished his night 's vigil in the chapel, 
and now at daybreak the nuns have brought to him two of 
the bravest knights of King Arthur's Round Table, Sir 
Launcelot and Sir Bors, who kneel and buckle his spurs 
upon his feet, Avhile Galahad kneels upon a higher stair 
next to the altar and takes his vow of knighthood. 

III. The Round Table of King Arthur. 

Here Galahad is being led to the Round Table of King 
Arthur by a veiled figure, whom we may suppose to be 
Joseph of Arimathea. The figure leads the youth to the 
one vacant seat, the Siege Perilous. Above hovers the 
Angel of the Grail, and round about is the angelic host. 
Arthur, the King, is standing, and behind the throne 
crouches the jester. 

IV. The Departure. 

The Knights have vowed to leave King Arthur's court 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIELS 203 

at Camelot and go out into the world to seek tlie Holy 
Grail. In this picture we see the knights kneeling to 
receive the blessing of the holy bishop. 

V. The Castle of the Grail. 

Galahad has had many and varied experiences, and has 
finally come to the castle of the Grail, where the King 
Amfortas, because of a grievous sin, is no longer per- 
mitted to look upon the Grail. He is suffering from a 
wound which can be healed only by the sight of the 
Grail. In this picture we see Galahad standing beside 
the couch upon which King Amfortas lies. There is 
passing before Galahad's eyes a procession — first a 
maiden carrying the Holy Grail, veiled; then a second 
maiden bearing the head of a man, on a charger ; then 
two knights carrying high above their heads seven- 
branched candlesticks, and last of all, a knight with a 
spear dripping blood from its point. Galahad sees but 
asks no questions; for he remembers the advice of Gur- 
nemanz, the worldly adviser whom he had met in his 
travels, "' Think much, and speak little." For him this 
course is unwise, but he does not know that till later. 

VI. The Loathly Damsel. 

Here we see the damsel who takes the same part in 
this story as Kundry, the temptress of Parsifal in the 
tale of that name. Galahad has left the Castle of the 
Grail, not realizing his weakness of the night before. He 
has dismounted from his horse, and it is from this loathly 
damsel, mounted upon a yellow mule, bearing the crowned 
head of a king in one hand, and attended by a mounted 



204 STOEY-TELLING 

maiden and one on foot who carried a scourge in her 
hand, that Galahad heard with curses his fault of the night 
before, and how he might have healed the poor king by- 
questioning the meaning of the strange procession which 
he had been permitted to view. Galahad kneels in sor- 
row as the damsel and her escorts pass on. 

VII. The Seven Sins. 

After the loathly damsel had gone her way, Galahad 
determined to right some wa^ong in the world. He ad- 
vanced to the Castle of the Maidens, whose virtuous 
inmates are held prisoners by the seven deadly sins. 
When Galahad attempted to enter the gate of the outer 
wall, he was met by the seven brothers, who deny him 
entrance. In this picture we see our guileless youth in 
the act of conquering the seven deadly sins. Notice that 
he has only four more to subdue. How small he looks 
in comparison with his foes and what a difference between 
his sword and the four large spears which are pointed 
toward him ! 

VIII. The Key to the Castle. 

When Galahad has passed through the outer wall after 
his encounter with the Seven Deadly Sins, he meets an 
old man, who holds out to him the key to the castle. 
Galahad kneels with bared head, showing such respect for 
the old man as he believes is due him. We see in the 
picture Galahad with helmet cast aside, kneeling to the 
old man as the keeper holds out the key to him. 

IX. The Castle of the Maidens. 

Galahad takes the key offered to him by the old keeper, 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIELS 205 

and enters the castle, where he is received joyously by the 
captives. We see him here, doing homage to each one of 
the maidens, as becomes a gallant knight. He has cast his 
faithful sword, shield, and helmet upon the floor and is 
greeting each lady in turn. 

X. Blanchefleur. 

Blanchefleur is the maiden whom G-urnemanz upon his 
death bed had made Galahad promise to marry, but on 
the w^edding morning Galahad saw again the vision of 
the Grail, and realized with that vision that he must 
either give up Blanchefleur or the hope of finding the 
Grail. After a struggle with his soul he takes leave of 
his bride with her blessing upon him, and carrying in 
his hand one of her white roses. 

XI. The Death of Amfortas. 

Galahad returns to the Castle of the Grail and finds the 
King, Amfortas, dying. He is permitted once more to see 
the strange procession ; and this time he turns to the dying 
King and asks: '* What ails thee, King? What mean 
these strange things? " Then they behold the vision of 
the veiled Grail. Amfortas tells Galahad the meaning 
of the strange things which he has seen, of his sacred 
commission, and of his sin and punishment. He tells 
Galahad how he has waited for him, Galahad the pure 
youth, who could free him from this living death. Then, 
as we see in the picture, the angel descends from heaven, 
and bears away the Grail and with it the soul of Amfortas. 

XII. Galahad the Deliverer. 

Galahad listens to the strange voice which has been 



206 STOEY-TELLING 

directing him, and once more obeys its command. He 
makes ready to go on a journey in Solomon's ship to a 
city called Sarras. In the picture we see our hero mounted 
upon a white steed, going down to the ship. Many 
people are out to see him as he rides by. In the fore- 
ground kneels a woman, whom we may imagine to be the 
loathly damsel, freed from her loathsome mission in life 
by the goodness of Galahad. In the background we see 
the ship at anchor awaiting its royal passenger. 

XIII. Solomon's Ship, 

Galahad does not go upon this journey alone, for in the 
ship we find Sir Percival and Sir Bors, who have decided 
to cast their lot with Sir Galahad, In the prow of the 
ship sits the Angel of the Grail, bearing his precious 
burden, the Holy Grail, veiled in white samite, 

XIV, The City of Sarras. 

To this city Solomon's ship bore the three knights with 
their heavenly companion. Here we see the shield and the 
spear of Galahad across the city wall. Towers and tur- 
rets rise above the walls. The three knights did many 
good deeds in this strange city, healing the sick and 
ministering unto them. The king of Sarras at last became 
angry with these strange sojourners, and so cast them 
into prison. Here the dove which so often appeared with 
the Grail, ministered unto their physical needs, and the 
vision of the Grail unto their spiritual wants. Ere long 
the king fell ill. He pardoned his knightly prisoners, 
hoping that they might cure him. They were not able 
to do this; but the monarch died in peace, happy that 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIRE GIRLS 207 

these good men had pardoned him for his injustice toward 

them. Galahad was then chosen king by the people of 

Sarras. 

XV. The Golden Tree. 

Galahad ruled in Sarras for a year and a day. Upon 
a hill near the castle he was building a golden tree. 
Every morning and evening he went up to the hill and 
prayed and added more gold and gems to the tree. At 
the end of a year the tree was complete. The next day 
he went up to the hill to worship. Suddenly there appeared 
to him a company of angels and with them Joseph of 
Arimathea in a white robe, holding high above his head 
the Holy Grail, unveiled. Galahad fell upon his knees and 
cast his crown and sceptre upon the ground. We see him 
with his face upturned in adoration toward the Holy 
Grail. The angelic host stands behind the golden tree. 
Joseph of Arimathea stands in front of the tree, and the 
light from the unveiled Grail throws a radiance over 
the whole scene. Legend tells us that Galahad vanished 
from the earth, and a hand from heaven reached down 
and took the Holy Grail, and that, since that day, neither 
Galahad nor the Grail has ever been seen upon this earth. 

Where Love Is, There God Is Also 

In a certain city dwelt Martin Avdyeeich, the cobbler. 
He lived in a cellar, a wretched little hole with a single 
window. The window looked up towards the street, and 
through it Martin could just see the passers-by. While 



208 STOEY-TELLING 

Martin was still a journeyman his wife had died; but 
his wife had left him a little boy — Kapitoshka — three 
years old. No sooner had the little one begun to grow 
up and be a help and a joy to his father's heart than a 
sickness fell upon Kapitoshka. The little one took to his 
bed, lay there in a raging fever for a week, and then 
died. Martin buried his son in despair — so desperate 
was he that he began to murmur again God. Such disgust 
of life overcame him that he more than once begged God 
that he might die ; and he reproached God for taking not 
him, an old man, but his darling, his only son, instead. 
And after that Avdyeeich left off going to church. 

And, lo ! one day there came to Avdyeeich an aged 
peasant-pilgrim. Avdyeeich fell a-talking with him, and 
began to complain of his great sorrow. " As for living 
any longer, thou man of God," said he, " I desire it not. 
Would only that I might die ! That is my sole prayer to 
God. I am now a man who has no hope." 

And the old man said to him : * * Thy speech, Martin, is 
not good. How shall we judge the doings of God ? God's 
judgments are not our thoughts. It is because thou 
wouldst fain have lived for thy own delight that thou 
dost now despair." 

' ' But what then is a man to live for ? ' ' asked Avdy- 
eeich. 

And the old man answered : ' ' For God, Martin ! ' ' 

Martin was silent for a moment, and then he said: 
" And how must one live for God? " 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIRE GIELS 209 

" Buy the Gospels and read; there thou wilt find out 
how to live for God." 

These words made the heart of Avdyeeich burn within 
him, and he went the same day and bought for himself 
a New Testament printed in very large type, and began 
to read. 

Avdyeeich set out with the determination to read it only 
on holidays ; but as he read, it did his heart so much good 
that he took to reading it every day. And the second 
time he read until all the kerosene in the lamp had burnt 
itself out, and for all that, he could not tear himself 
away from the book. And so it was every evening. And 
the more he read, the more clearly he understood what 
God wanted of him, and how it behooved him to live for 
God ; and his heart grew lighter and lighter continually. 

Henceforth the whole life of Avdyeeich was changed. 
Formerly, whenever he had a holiday, he would go to the 
tavern to drink tea, nor would he say '' no " to a drop 
of brandy now and again. He had done with all that 
now. His life became quiet and joyful. With the morn- 
ing light he sat down to his work, worked out his time, 
and then took down his lamp from the hook, placed it 
on the table, took down his book from the shelf, bent over 
it, and sat down to read. 

It happened once that Martin was up reading till very 
late. He was reading St. Luke's Gospel. And he read 
all about how the woman who was a sinner anointed His 
feet and washed them with her tears, and how He justified 



210 STOEY-TELLING 

her. And so he came at last to the forty-fourth verse, 
and there he read these words, " And He turned to the 
woman and said to Simon, ' Seest thou this woman? I 
entered into thine house; thou gavest Me no water for 
My feet ; but she has washed My feet with tears and wiped 
them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest Me no 
kiss, but this woman, since the time I came in, hath not 
ceased to kiss My feet. Mine head with oil thou didst 
not anoint.' " Avdyeeich took off his glasses and laid 
them on the book, and fell a-thinking. 

"So it is quite plain that I too have something of 
the Pharisee about me. Am I not always thinking of 
myself? Am I not always thinking of drinking tea, and 
keeping myself as warm and cozy as possible, without 
thinking at all about the guest? Simon thought about 
himself, but did not give the slightest thought to his guest. 
But who was his guest ? The Lord Himself. And suppose 
he were to come to me, should I treat Him as the Phariseo 
d5d? " 

And Avdyeeich leaned both his elbows on the table, 
and, without perceiving it, fell a-dozing. 

** Martin! " — it was as the voice of some one close to 
his ear. 

Martin started up from his nap. " Who's there? " 

He turned round, he gazed at the door, but there was 
no one. Again he dozed off. Suddenly he heard quite 
plainly, " Martin, Martin, I say! Look to-morrow into 
the street. I am coming." 
• Martin awoke, rose from his chair, and began to rub 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIRE GIRLS 211 

his eyes. He turned down the lamp and laid him down 
to rest. 

At dawn next day Avdyeeich arose, prayed to God and 
sat him down by his window to work. 

Martin sits at the window and looks as much at his 
window as at his work; and whenever a strange pair of 
boots passes by, he bends forward and looks out of the 
window, so as to see the face as well as the feet of the 
passers-by. There passed close to the window an old 
soldier, one of Nicholas' veterans, in tattered old boots, 
with a shovel in his hands. Stepanuich stopped before 
Avdyeeich 's window to sweep away the snow. Avdyeeich 
cast a glance at him, and then went on working as 
before, 

"I'm not growing sager as I grow older," thought 
Avdyeeich, with some self-contempt. ** I make up my 
mind that Christ is coming to me, and, lo ! 'tis only 
Stepanuich clearing away the snow. 

" The old man is very much broken," thought Avdy- 
eeich to himself. ** It is quite plain that he has scarcely 
strength enough to scrape away the snow. Suppose I 
make him drink a little tea ! Avdyeeich put down his 
awl, got up, placed the samovar on the table, put some 
tea in it, and tapped on the window with his fingers. 
Avdyeeich beckoned to him, and then went and opened 
the door. 

** Come in and warm yourself a bit/' cried he. ** You're 
a bit chilled, eh? " 



212 STOEY-TELLING 

** Christ requite you ! Yes, and all my bones ache too," 
said Stepanuich. 

' ' Come in and sit down," said Avdyeeich. * * Here, take 
a cup of tea. ' ' 

And Avdyeeich filled two cups, and gave one to his 
guest ; and as Avdyeeich drank his cup, he could not help 
glancing at the window from time to time. 

*' Dos't thou expect any one? " asked his guest. 

** Do I expect any one? Well, honestly, I hardly know. 
I am expecting, and I am not expecting; and there's a 
word which has burnt itself right into my heart. Whether 
it was a vision or no, I know not. Look now, my brother ! 
I was reading yesterday about our little Father Christ, 
how he suffered, how He came on earth. Hast thou heard 
of Him, eh?" 

' ' I have heard, I have heard, ' ' replied • Stepanuich, 
" but we poor ignorant ones know not our letters." 

. ** Anyhow, I was reading about this very thing — how 
He came down upon earth. I was reading how He went 
to the Pharisee, and how the Pharisee did not receive 
Him at all. Thus I thought; and so, about yesternight, 
little brother mine, I read that very thing, and bethought 
me how the Honorable did not receive our little Father 
Christ honorably. But suppose, I thought, if He came to 
one like me — would I receive Him? Simon at any rate 
did not receive Him at all. Thus I thought, and so think- 
ing, fell asleep. I fell asleep, I say, little brother mine, 
and I heard my name called. I started up. A voice was 
whispering at my very ear. ' Look out to-morrow ! ' it 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIRE GIELS 213 

said, * I am coming.' And so it befell me twice. Now 
look ! wouldst thou believe it ? The idea stuck to me — I 
scold myself for my folly, and yet I look for Him, our 
little Father, Christ! " 

Stepanuich shook his head and said nothing, but he 
drank his cup dry and put it aside. Then Avdyeeich 
took up the cup and filled it again. 

*' Drink some more. 'Twill do thee good." 

*' I thank thee, Martin Avdyeeich," said he. " I have 
fa,red well at thy hands, and thou hast refreshed me both 
in body and soul." 

" Thou wilt show me a kindness by coming again. I 
am so glad to have a guest, ' ' said Avdyeeich. Stepanuich 
departed, and Martin poured out the last drop of tea, 
drank it, washed up, and again sat down by the window 
to work. 

Then there came alongside the window a woman in 
worsted stockings and rustic shoes ; and as she was pass- 
ing by, she stopped short in front of the partition wall. 
Avdyeeich looked up at her from his window, and he saw 
that the woman was a stranger and poorly clad, and that 
she had a little child with her. She was leaning up 
against the wall with her back to the wind, and tried 
to wrap the child up, but she had nothing to wrap it up 
with. The woman wore summer clothes, and thin enough 
they were. And from out of his corner Avdyeeich heard 
the child crying and the woman trying to comfort it, but 
she could not. Then Avdyeeich got up, went out of the 



214 STOEY-TELLINa 

door and on to the steps, and cried, " My good woman! 
my good woman! " 

The woman heard him and turned round. 

" "Why dost thou stand out in the cold there with the 
child? Come inside! " 

The woman was amazed. What she saw was an old 
fellow in an apron and with glasses on his nose calling to 
her. She came towards him. 

They went down the steps together. The old man led 
the woman to the bed. ** There," said he, ** sit down, 
gossip, nearer to the stove, and warm and feed thy little 
one ..." 

He went to the table and got some bread and a dish. 

*' Sit down and have something to eat, gossip," said 
he, " and I will sit down a little with the youngster. I 
have had children of my own, and know how to manage 
them." 

The woman crossed herself, sat down at the table, and 
began to eat, and Avdyeeich sat down on the bed with 
the child. Avdyeeich smacked his lips at him again and 
again, but his lack of teeth made it a clumsy joke at best. 
And all the time the child never left off shrieking. Then 
Avdyeeich hit upon the idea of shaking his finger at him ; 
so he snapped his fingers up and down, backwards and 
forwards, right in front of the child's mouth. And the 
child stared at the finger and was silent, and presently 
it began to laugh. And Avdyeeich was delighted. But 
the woman went on eating, and told him who she was and 
whence she came. 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIELS 215 

" I am a soldier's wife," she said: " It is now three 
months since I have been drifting about without any 
fixed resting-place. I have eaten away my all. But, God 
be praised ! our landlady has compassion on us, and gives 
us shelter for Christ's sake. But for that I don't know 
how we could live through it all." 

Avdyeeich sighed, and said, " And have you no warm 
clothes? " 

" Ah, kind friend! this is indeed warm-clothes time, 
but yesterday I pawned away my last shawl for two 
grivenki. ' ' 

The woman went to the bed and took up the child, 
but Avdyeeich stood up, went to the wall cupboard, rum- 
maged about a bit, and then brought back with him an 
old jacket. 

" Look! " said he, " 'tis a shabby thing, 'tis true, but 
it will do to wrap up in." 

The woman looked at the old jacket; then she gazed 
at the old man, and, taking the jacket, fell a-weeping. 

Then the woman said: '' Christ requite thee, dear 
little father! It is plain that it was He who sent me 
by thy window." 

Avdyeeich smiled slightly, and said: " Yes, He must 
have done it, for I looked not out of the window in vain, 
dear gossip ! " 

The woman Avent away. Avdyeeich ate up the re- 
mainder of the cabbage soup, washed up, and again sat 
down to work. He worked on and on, but he did not 
forget the window ; and whenever the window was dark- 



216 STOEY-TELLING 

ened, he immediately looked up to see who was passing. 
Acquaintances passed, strangers passed, but there Avas no 
one in particular. 

But now Avdyeeich saw how, right in front of his 
window, an old woman, a huckster, had taken her stand. 
She carried a basket of apples. Not many now remained ; 
she had evidently sold them nearly all. Across her 
shoulder she carried a sack full of shavings. It was plain 
that the sack was straining her shoulder. She wanted 
to shift it on to the other shoulder ; so she rested the sack 
on the pavement, placed the apple-basket on a small post, 
and set about shaking down the shavings in the sack. 
Now, while she was shaking down the sack, an urchin 
in a ragged cap suddenly turned up, goodness knows 
from whence, grabbed at one of the apples in the basket, 
and would have made off with it, but the wary old 
woman turned quickly round and gripped the youth by 
the sleeve. The lad fought and tried to tear himself 
loose, but the old woman seized him with both hands, 
knocked his hat off, and tugged hard at his hair. The 
lad howled, and the woman reviled him. Avdyeeich did 
not stop to put away his awl, but pitched it on the floor, 
rushed into the courtyard, and in his haste stumbled on 
the steps and dropped his glasses. Avdyeeich ran out 
into the street. The old woman was tugging at the lad's 
hair and wanted to drag him off to the police, while the 
boy fought and kicked. 

" I didn't take it," said he. ** What are you whacking 
me for? Let me go!" 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIKLS 217 

Avdyeeich. came up and tried to part them. He seized 
the lad by the arm and said : ' ' Let him go, little mother ! 
Forgive him for Christ 's sake ! ' ' 

*' I'll forgive him so that he sha'n't forget the taste of 
fresh birch-rods." 

Avdyeeich began to entreat with the old woman. 

" Let him go, little mother; he will not do so any 
more. ' ' 

The old woman let him go. The lad would have bolted, 
but Avdyeeich held him fast. 

" Beg the little mother's pardon," said he, " and don't 
do such things any more. I saw thee take them." 

Then the lad began to cry and beg pardon. 

" Well, that's all right! And now, there's an apple 
for thee." And Avdyeeich took one out of the basket 
and gave it to the boy. " I'll pay thee for it, little 
mother," he said to the old Avoman. 

" Thou wilt ruin them that way, the blackguards," 
said the old woman. 

" Oh, little mother, little mother! " cried Avdyeeich, 
"that is our way of looking at things; but it is not 
God's way. If we ought to be whipped so for the sake 
of one apple, what do we deserve for our sins ? ' ' 

The old woman was silent. 

" God bade us forgive," said Avdyeeich; " otherwise 
He will not forgive us. We must forgive everyone, espe- 
cially the thoughtless. ' ' 

The old woman shook her head and sighed, 



218 STOEY-TELLING 

Now just as she was about to hoist the sack on to her 
shoulder, the lad rushed forward and said : 

" Give it here, and I'll carry it for thee, granny! It 
is all in my way." 

The old woman shook her head, but she did put the 
sack on the lad's shoulder. 

And so they trudged down the street together, side by 
side. And the old woman forgot to ask Avdyeeich for 
the money for the apple. 

Avdyeeich followed them with his eyes till they were 
out of sight; then he turned homewards. '* I see it is 
time to light up, ' ' thought he ; so he trimmed his little 
lamp, lighted it, and again sat down to work. He fin- 
ished one boot completely, turned it round and inspected 
it. " Good! " he cried. He put away his tools, swept 
up the cuttings, removed the brushes and tips, put away 
the awl, took down the lamp, placed it on the table, and 
took down the Gospels from the shelf. He wanted to find 
the passage where he had last evening placed a strip of 
morocco leather by way of a marker, but he lit upon 
another place. And just as Avdyeeich opened the Gospel, 
he recollected his dream of yesterday evening. Then a 
voice whispered in his ear: 

* ' Martin 1 Martin ! dost thou not know me ? ' ' 
" Who art thou? " cried Avdyeeich. 
" 'Tis I," cried the voice, " lo, 'tis I! " And forth 
from the dark corner stepped Stepanuich. He smiled, and 
it was as though a little cloud were breaking, and he was 
gone. 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIRLS 219 

** It is I! " cried the voice, and forth from the corner 
stepped a woman with a little child ; and the woman smiled 
and the child laughed, and they also disappeared, 

* ' And it is I ! " cried the voice, and the old woman 
and the lad with the apple stepped forth, and both of 
them smiled, and they also disappeared. 

And the heart of Avdyeeich was glad. He crossed him- 
self, put on his glasses, and began to read the Gospels 
at the place where he had opened them. And at the top 
of the page he read these words : '* And I was an hungred 
and athirst, and ye gave Me to drink. I was a stranger, 
and ye took Me in," 

And at the bottom of the page he read thi^: " Inas- 
much as ye have done it to the least of these. My brethren, 
ye have done it unto Me. ' ' 

And Avdyeeich understood that his dream had not 
deceived him, and that the Saviour had really come to him 
that day, and he had really received Him. 

— Count Lyof N. Tolstoy. 

Old Pipes and the Dryad * 

For many, many years Old Pipes had been employed by 
the villagers to pipe the cattle down from the hills. 

But now, for a year or more. Old Pipes had not piped 
the cattle home. It is true that every afternoon he sat 
upon the rock and played upon his pipes ; but the cattle 
did not hear him. He had grown old, and his breath 

* First published 1888. 



220 STOEY-TELLINa 

was feeble. The echoes of his cheerful notes, which used 
to come from the rocky hill on the other side of the val- 
ley, were heard no more ; and twenty yards from Old Pipes 
one could scarcely tell what tune he was playing. . The 
cows, and sheep, and the goats came down every after- 
noon as before; but this was. because two boys and a 
girl were sent up after them. The villagers did not wish 
the good old man to know that his piping was no longer 
of any use ; so they paid him his little salary every month, 
and said nothing about the two boys and the girl. 

One afternoon, at the end of the month, when Old 
Pipes had finished his piping, he took his stout staff and 
went down the hill to the village to receive the money 
for his month's work. 

When the Chief Villager had paid him, and he had 
talked a little with some of his friends. Old Pipes started 
to go home. But when he had gone a short distance up 
the hillside, he became very tired, and sat down upon a 
stone. He had not been sitting there half a minute, 
when along came two boys and a girl. 

" Children," said Old Pipes, "I'm very tired to-night, 
and I don't believe I can climb up this steep path to my 
home. I think I shall have to ask you to help me." 

** We will do that," said the boys and the girl, quite 
cheerfully. Old Pipes gave each of the three children a 
copper coin, and then they sat down for a few minutes' 
rest before starting back to the village. 

"I'm sorry that I tired you so much," said Old Pipes. 

*' Oh, that would not have tired us," said one of the 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIRE GIRLS 221 

boys, " if we had not been so far to-day after the cows, 
and the sheep, and the goats. ' ' 

" Had to go after the cows, the sheep, and the goats ! " 
exclaimed Old Pipes. '' What do you mean by that? " 

The girl, who stood behind the old man, shook her 
head, but the boy did not notice her, and promptly 
answered Old Pipes. 

** Why, you see, good sir," said he, " that as the 
cattle can't hear your pipes now, somebody has to go 
after them every evening to drive them down from the 
mountain, and the Chief Villager has hired us three to 
doit." 

" How long have you been doing this? " asked the old 
man. 

The girl shook her head and clapped her hand on her 
mouth as before, but the boy went on. 

" I think it is about a year now," he said, " since 
the people first felt sure that the cattle could not hear 
your pipes. Goodnight, sir. ' ' 

The three children then went down the hill, the girl 
scolding the boy all the way home. Old Pipes stood 
silent a few moments and then he went into his cottage, 

** Mother," he shouted, '' did you hear what those 
children said? " 

" Children! " exclaimed the old woman; " I did not 
hear them." 

Then Old Pipes told his mother — shouting very loudly 
to make her hear. 

"Nonsense!" cried his mother. "I'm sure you've 



222 STOEY-TELLINa 

piped as well as you could, and no more can be expected. 
And what are we to do without the money? " 

'* I don't know," said Old Pipes ; ** but I'm going down 
to the village to pay it back." 

When he had gone about half way the old man sat 
down to rest, leaning his back against a great oak tree. 
As he did so, he heard a sound like knocking inside the 
tree, and then a voice said : 

* ' Let me out ! let me out ! ' ' 

Old Pipes instantly forgot that he was tired, and 
sprang to his feet. " This must be a Dryad tree! " he 
exclaimed. " If it is, I'll let her out." 

He closely examined the trunk of the tree, which stood 
in the full moonlight. " If I see that key," he said, " I 
shall surely turn it." Before long he found a piece of 
bark standing out from the tree, which looked to him 
very much like the handle of a key. He took hold of it, 
and found he could turn it quite around. As he did so, a 
large part of the side of the tree was pushed open, and 
a beautiful Dryad stepped quickly out. 

For a moment she stood motionless, gazing on the scene 
before her. " Oh, lovely! lovely! "-she exclaimed. " How 
long it is since I have seen anything like this! " And 
then, turning to Old Pipes, she said : *' How good of you 
to let me out ! I am so happy, and so thankful, that I 
must kiss you, you dear old man ! ' ' And she kissed him 
on both cheeks. 

" You don't know how doleful it is to be shut up so 
long in a tree. It's ever so long since I've been let out. 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIRLS 223 

People so seldom come this way ; and when they do come 
at the right time, they either don't hear me, or they are 
frightened and run away. What can I do for you, to 
show you how grateful I am ? ' ' 

" If you wish to do something for me, you can, if you 
happen to be going down toward the village. I wish you 
would take this little bag of money to the Chief Villager 
and tell him that Old Pipes cannot receive pay for the 
services which he does not perform. It is now more than 
a year that I have not been able to make the cattle hear 
me when I piped to call them home. I did not know this 
until to-night ; but now that I know it, I cannot keep 
the money, and so I send it back." And, handing the 
little bag to the Dryad, he bade her good-night, and 
turned toward his cottage. 

*' Good-night," said the Dryad. " And I thank you 
over and over and over again, you good old man! " 

Old Pipes walked toward his home, very glad to be 
saved the fatigue of going all the way down to the village 
and back again. When he reached home his mother was 
surprised to see him returning so soon. 

When Old Pipes left the Dryad, she did not go down 
to the village with the little bag of money. She held 
it in her hand, and thought about what she had heard. 
" This is a good and honest old man," she said; " and it 
is a shame that he should lose this money. I am going 
to take the money back to him." She did not start imme- 
diately, because there were so many beautiful things to 
look at ; but after, awhile she went up to the cottage, and. 



224 STOEY-TELLING 

finding Old Pipes asleep in his chair, she slipped the little 
bag into his coat pocket, and silently sped away. 

The next day old Pipes told his mother that he would 
go np the mountain and cut some wood. He worked all 
the morning, and when he came back he did not feel at 
all tired, and he had a very good appetite for his dinner. 

Now, Old Pipes knew a good deal about Dryads; but 
there was one thing which, although he had heard, he had 
forgotten. This was, that a kiss from a Dryad made a 
person ten years younger. 

He had been kissed twice by the Dryad, once on each 
cheek, and he therefore felt as vigorous and active as 
when he was a hale man of fifty. 

In the course of the afternoon, Old Pipes, for the first 
time that day, put his hand in his coat pocket, and there, 
to his amazement, he found the little bag of money. 
*' Well, well! " he exclaimed, ** I am stupid, indeed! I 
really thought that I had seen a Dryad. But the Chief 
Villager shall have the money. I shall not take it to him 
to-day, but to-morrow I wish to go to the village to see 
some of my old friends, and then I shall give up the 
money. ' ' 

Toward the close of the afternoon. Old Pipes, as had 
been his custom for so many years, took his pipes from 
the shelf on which they lay, and went out to the rock 
in front of the cottage. 

" What are you going to do? " cried his mother. '* If 
you will not consent to be paid, why do you pipe? " 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIRE GIRLS 225 

'' I am going to pipe for my own pleasure," said her 
son. 

When the good man began to play upon his favorite 
instrument, he was astonished at the sound that came 
from it. The beautiful notes of the pipes sounded clear 
and strong down into the valley, and spread over the 
hills, and up the sides of the mountain beyond; while, 
after a little interval, an echo came back from the rocky 
hill on the other side of the valley. 

The merry notes were heard in the village below, and 
the people were much astonished thereby. ** Why, who 
can be blowing the pipes of Old Pipes? " they said. But, 
as they were all very busy, no one went up to see. 

The next morning Old Pipes started down to the vil- 
lage with his money, and on the way he met the Dryad. 
' ' Oh, ho ! " he cried, * ' is that you ? Why, I thought my 
letting you out of the tree was nothing but a dream." 

" A dream! " cried the Dryad; *' if you only knew 
how happy you have made me, you would not think it 
merely a dream. And has it not benefited you? Do you 
not feel happier ? Yesterday I heard you playing beauti- 
fully on your pipes." 

" Yes, yes," cried he. ** I did not understand it before, 
but I see it all now. I have really grown younger. I 
thank you, I thank you, good Dryad, from the bottom of 
my heart. It was the finding of the money in my pocket 
that made me think it was a dream. ' ' 

** Oh, I put it in when you were asleep," she said, 



226 STOEY-TELLING 

laughing, ** because I thought you ought to keep it. Good- 
bye, kind, honest man. May you live long, and be as 
happy as I am now." 

Old Pipes was greatly delighted when he understood 
that he was really a younger man; but that made no 
difference about the money, and he kept on his way to 
the village. As soon as he reached it, he was eagerly 
questioned as to who had been playing his pipes the 
evening before ; and when the people heard that it was 
himself, they were very much surprised. Thereupon, Old 
Pipes told what had happened to him. The Chief Villager 
refused to take his money ; and although Old Pipes said 
that he had not earned it, everyone present insisted that, 
as he would now play on his pipes as before, he should 
lose nothing because, for a time, he was unable to per- 
form his duty. 

So Old Pipes was obliged to keep his money, and after 
an hour or two spent in conversation with his friends 
he returned to his cottage. 

There was one person, however, who was not pleased 
with what had happened to Old Pipes. This was an 
Echo-Dwarf who lived on the hills across the valley. It 
was his work to echo back the notes of the pipes when- 
ever they could be heard. 

A great many other Echo-dwarfs lived on these hills. 
But there was only one who could send back the strong 
notes of the pipes of Old Pipes, and this had been his sole 
duty for many years. But when the old man grew feeble, 
and the notes of his pipes could not be heard on the oppo- 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIRE GIRLS 227 

site hills, this Echo-dA\^arf had nothing to do ; and he 
spent his time in delightful idleness ; and he slept so much 
and grew so fat that it made his companions laugh to 
see him walk. 

On the afternoon on which, after so long an interval, 
the sound of the pipes was heard on the echo hills, this 
dwarf was fast asleep behind a rock. As soon as the 
first notes reached them, some of his companions ran 
to wake him up. Rolling to his feet, he echoed back the 
merry tune of Old Pipes. The Echo-dwarf was very 
angry. He had supposed, of course, that the pipe-playing 
had ceased forever. He was so much disturbed that he 
made up his mind to go and try to find out how long this 
was to last. When he had crossed the valley and had 
gone some distance into the woods on the hillside, he 
stopped to rest, and in a few minutes the Dryad came 
tripping along. 

'' Ho, ho ! " exclaimed the dwarf; " what are you doing 
here ? and how did you get out of your tree ? ' ' 

" Doing! " cried the Dryad. " I was let out of my 
tree by the good old man who plays the pipes to call the 
cattle down from the mountain. And it makes me hap- 
pier to think that I have been of service to him. I gave 
him two kisses of gratitude, and now he is young enough 
to play his pipes as well as ever. ' ' 

The Echo-dwarf stepped forward, his face pale with 
passion. " Am I to believe," he said, *' that you are the 
cause of this great evil that has come upon me? What 
have I ever done to you that you should have condemned 



228 STOEY-TELLINa 

me for years and years to echo back the notes of those 
wretched pipes? " 

At this the Dryad laughed loudly. 

** What a funny little fellow you are ! " she said. ** Fie 
upon you, Echo-dwarf ! You are lazy and selfish, that is 
what is the matter with you. Go home and learn to be 
just and generous ; and then, perhaps, you may be happy. 
Good-bye." 

" Insolent creature! " shouted the dwarf, as he shook 
his fat little fist at her. " I '11 make you suffer for this. ' ' 

Each day, from early morning till it was time for him 
to go back to his duties upon the rocky hillside, he 
searched the woods for her. He intended, if he met her, 
to pretend to be very sorry for what he had said, and 
he thought he might be able to play a trick upon her 
which would avenge him well. 

One day, while thus wandering among the trees, he met 
Old Pipes. The Echo-dwarf did not generally care to 
see or speak to ordinary people; but now he was so 
anxious to find the object of his search that he stopped 
and asked Old Pipes if he had seen the Dryad. 

" No," he said, " I have been looking everywhere for 
her." 

" You," cried the dwarf, " what do you wish with her? " 

Old Pipes then told what the Dryad had done for him. 

When the Echo-dwarf heard that this was the man 
whose pipes he was obliged to echo back every day, he 
would, have slain him on the spot, had he been able ; but, 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIRLS 229 

as he was not able, he merely ground his teeth and listened 
to the rest of the story. 

*' I am looking for the Dryad to ask her to make my 
mother younger, as she made me, ' ' continued Old Pipes. 

The eyes of the Echo-dwarf glistened, 

** Your idea is a good one," he said to Old Pipes, 
'' and it does you honor. But you should know that a 
Dryad can make no person younger but one who lets her 
out of her tree. All you need do is to find the Dryad, 
tell her what you want, and request her to step into her 
tree and bring your mother to the tree ; she will open 
it, and everything will be as you wish. Is not this a 
good plan? " 

' ' Excellent ! ' ' cried Old Pipes ; * ' and I will go in- 
stantly and search more diligently for the Dryad. ' ' 

'' Take me with you," said the Echo-dwarf. 

Before long they came to the great oak tree in which 
the Dryad had lived, and at a distance they saw that 
beautiful creature herself coming toward them. 

" How excellently well everything happens! " said the 
dwarf. " Put me down, and I will go." 

Old Pipes put the Echo-dwarf upon the ground, but 
the little rogue did not go away. He hid himself between 
some loAv, mossy rocks, and he was so much like them in 
color that you would not have noticed him if you had 
been looking straight at him. 

When the Dryad came up, Old Pipes lost no time in 
telling her about his mother, and what he wished her to 
do. 



230 STORY-TELLING 

" Do you really wish me to go into my tree again? " 
she said. " It is not at all necessary, for I could make your 
mother younger at any time if she would give me the 
opportunity. I cannot imagine what put this idea into 
your head. Did you think of it yourself? " 

" No," answered Old Pipes. " A little dwarf whom I 
met in the woods proposed it to me." 

" Oh ! " cried the Dryad, " it is the scheme of that vile ' 
Echo-dAvarf — your enemy and mine. "Where is he ? ' ' 

" I think he has gone away," said Old Pipes. 

" No, he has not," said the Dryad, whose quick eyes 
perceived the Echo-dwarf among the rocks. " There he 
is. Seize him and drag him out, I beg of you.'* 

Old Pipes saw the dwarf as soon as he was pointed out 
to him; and running to the rocks, he caught the little 
fellow by the arm and pulled him out. 

^' Now, then," cried the Dryad, who had opened the 
door of the great oak, " just stick him in there, and we 
will shut him up." 

Old Pipes thrust the Echo-dwarf into the tree ; the 
Dryad pushed the door shut ; there was a clicking sound 
of bark and wood, and no one would have noticed that 
the big oak had ever had an opening in it. 

" There," said the Dryad; " now we need not be afraid 
of him. And I assure you, my good piper, that I shall 
be very glad to make your mother younger as soon as I 
can. ' ' 

And then, the Dryad at his side. Old Pipes hurried to 
his cottage. But when he mentioned the matter to his 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIELS 231 

mother, the old woman became very angry indeed. She 
did not believe in Dryads. 

As the summer days went on, Old Pipes' mother grew 
feebler and feebler. " Alas! alas! " she said, ** the time 
has come when I am too old to work. My son will have to 
hire some one to come here and cook his meals, make his 
bed, and mend his clothes. Alas ! alas ! I had hoped that 
as long as I lived I should be able to do these things. 
But it is not so. I have grown utterly worthless, and 
someone else must prepare the dinner for my son. I 
wonder where he is. " And tottering to the door, she went 
outside to look for him. She did not feel able to stand, 
and reachmg the rustic chair, she sank into it, quite ex- 
hausted, and soon fell asleep. 

The Dryad, who had often come to the cottage, stepped 
up quietly behind the old woman and gently kissed her 
on each cheek, and then as quietly disappeared. 

In a few minutes the mother of Old Pipes awoke, and 
looking up at the sun, she exclaimed : ** Why, it is almost 
dinner-time ! My son will be here directly, and I am not 
ready for him." 

" How a little sleep does refresh one," she said to her- 
self, as she was bustling about. The moment Old Pipes 
savv^ his mother, he knew that the Dryad had been there ; 
but, while he felt as happy as a king, he was too wise to 
say anything about her. 

The summer days went on and passed away, the leaves 
were falling from the trees, and the air was becoming 
cold. 



232 STORY-TELLING 

" Nature has ceased, to be lovely," said the Dryad, 
" and the night winds chill me. It is time for me to go 
back into my comfortable quarters in the great oak. 
But first I must pay another visit to the cottage of Old 
Pipes." 

She found the piper and his mother sitting side by side 
on the rock in front of the door. 

'* How happy they look, sitting there together," said 
the Dryad; " and I don't believe it Avill do them a bit 
of harm to be still younger." And moving quietly up 
behind them, she first kissed Old Pipes on his cheek and 
then kissed his mother. 

Old Pipes, who had stopped playing, knew what it was, 
but he did not move, and said nothing. His mother, 
thinking that her sou had kissed her, turned to him with 
a smile and kissed him in return. And then she arose 
and went into the cottage, a vigorous woman of sixty, 
followed by her son, erect and happy, and twenty years 
younger than herself. 

The Dryad sped away to the woods, shrugging her 
shoulders as she felt the cool evening wind. 

When she reached the great oak, she turned the key 
and opened the door. '' Come out," she said to the 
Echo-dwarf, who sat blinking within. " Winter is com- 
ing on, and I want the comfortable shelter of my tree for 
myself. The cattle have come down from the mountain 
for the last time this year, the pipes will no longer sound, 
and you can go to your rocks and have a holiday until 
next spring." 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIRE GIRLS 233 

Upon hearing these words, the dwarf skipped quickl}^ 
out, and the Dryad entered the tree and pulled the door 
shut after her. " Now, then," she said to herself, " he 
can break off the key if he likes. It does not matter to 
me. Another will grow out next spring. And although 
the good piper made me no promise, I know that when 
the warm days arrive next year, he will come and let me 
out again." 

The Echo-dwarf did not stop to break the key of the 
tree. He was too happy to be released to think of any- 
thing else, and he hastened as fast as he could to his 
home on the rocky hillside. 

The Dryad was not mistaken when she trusted in the 
piper. When the warm days came again he went to the 
oak tree to let her out. But, to his sorrow, and surprise, 
he found the great tree lying upon the ground. A winter 
storm had blown it down, and it lay with its trunk shat- 
tered and split. And what became of the Dryad no one 
ever knew. 

— From Frank B. Stackion's " The Bee Man Of-Orn." 

The Story of a Forest Fire * 

For more than six week no rain had fallen along the 
southwest side of the Adirondacks. The ground was 
parched. In every direction from Seaberry Settlement 
fires had been burning through the forest, but as yet the 
valley of the "West Canada had escaped. 

* Reprinted by courtesy of The Youths' Companion. Copy- 
righted. 



234 STORYTELLING 

But one night a careless man threw a burning match 
into a brush-heap. When morning came the west wind, 
blowing up the valley, was ash-laden and warm with the 
fire that was coming eastward toward the settlement in a 
line a mile wide. 

Soon after daybreak Lem Lawson met the fire on his 
way to Noblesborough, and warned the settlement of its 
danger. One man hastened to Noblesborough for the fire- 
warden; two went up the West Canada to the lumber 
camps. The rest of the male population, including boys, 
hastened down the main road to an old log trail. 

It was hoped the fire might be stopped at the opening 
the road afforded. 

With hoes and shovels the men dug a trench through the 
loam to the sand, scattering the dirt over the leaves 
toward the fire. When the first flames came along, they 
redoubled their efforts amid the flying sparks and suffo- 
cating smoke, but without avail. The sparks and great 
pieces of flaming birch curls carried the flames over the 
road into the woods beyond the men, fairly surrounding 
them with flre. 

The men could only go before it, pausing now and then 
to throw dirt on a spark. Those who lived in the settle- 
ment glanced from side to side, wondering if the fire 
would cross the brook, where they nov/ determined to 
make another and the last possible stand. 

The settlement was built along the brink of a steep side- 
hill. The bed of the stream was only a few feet wide — 
chiefly sand-bar and dry boulders at this time — and be- 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIRLS 235 

yond it, toward the fire, was a flat, or bottom, sixty rods 
wide, averaging not two feet above tlie bed of tlie brook. 

Should the fire cross the brook, it would climb the hill 
and burn the buildings. Then it would sweep across the 
narrow fields of grass, or go round the ends of the settle- 
ment clearing into the '' big woods." 

One of the fire-fighters was Will Borson, son of the 
man who had thrown the match, and as he fought Avith 
his hoe along the road he heard the men on each side of 
him cursing his father by name for his carelessness. More 
than once these men turned on "Will, and told him he 
ought to put that fire out, since his father was to blame 
for it. 

Will did his best. Sparks burned holes in his shirt ; a 
flare of sheet fire from a brush-heap singed his eyelashes 
and the hair over his forehead. When old Ike Frazier 
cried out, " It's no use here any more, boys! " Will was 
the last one to duck his head and run for the road up the 
creek to the settlement. 

Half a dozen men were detailed to go to the houses and 
help the women carry the furniture and other household 
goods out in the fields to the watering-troughs ; the rest 
hastened to the brook and scattered along it, and threw 
water on the brush at the edge, hoping the flames would be 
deadened when they came. 

Among them worked Will Borson, thinking with ail his 
might and looking up and down the creek as if the dry 
gray boulders, with the scant thread of water oozing 
down among them, would give him some inspiration. 



236 STOEY-TELLING 

The width of the stream was only a few feet on an average, 
and twenty feet at the widest pools, over which the 
flames and sparks would quickly jump. 

The fire reached the flat at the foot of the ridge and 
came toward the brook in jumps. The men worked 
faster than ever with their ten-quart pails. Old Ike 
Frazier glanced up the stream, and saw Will leaning on 
his hoe-handle, doing nothing. 

" Hi, there! " yelled the man. '* Get to work! " 

" You tell the men they want to be looking out! " 
Will called back. *' Something '11 happen pretty quick! " 
With that he dropped his hoe and Avent climbing up the 
side-hill toward his home at the top. Mrs. Borson was 
just piling the last of her bedding on the wagon when 
she saw Will coming toward her. He unhitched the horse 
from the wagon, and had the harness scattered on the 
ground before his mother could control herself enough 
to cry: 

*' Those things '11 be burned here! What are you tak- 
ing the horse for — we — we — " 

Then she sank to the ground and cried, while Will's 
younger brothers and sisters joined in. 

Will did not stop to say anything, but leaped to the 
back of the horse, and away he went up to the road, to 
the amazement of those who were taking their goods from 
the houses. But he was soon in the woods above the 
settlement and out of sight of every one. 

He was headed for the dam. He had thought to open 
the little sluice at the bottom of it, which would add to 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPriEE GIRLS 237 

the volume of the water in the stream — raise it a foot, 
perhaps. 

He reached the dam, and prying at the gate, opened 
the way. A stream of water two feet square shot from 
the bottom of the dam and went sloshing doAvn among the 
rocks. 

'' That water '11 help a lot," he thought. Then he 
heard the roar of the fire down the brook, and saw a 
huge, dull, brick-colored flash as a big hemlock went up 
in flame. The amount of water gushing from the gate 
of the dam seemed suddenly small and useless. It would 
not fill the brook bed. In a little shanty a hundred yards 
away were the quarrying tools used in getting out the 
stone for the Cardin house. To this Will ran with all his 
speed. 

With an old ax that was behind the shanty he broke 
down the door. Inside he picked up a full twelve-pound 
box of dynamite, and bored a hole the size of his finger 
into one side. Then with a fuse and cap in one hand and 
the box under his arm, he hurried back to the dam. 

He climbed down the ladder to the bottom of the dam, 
and fixing the fuse to the cap, ran it into the hole he had 
bored till it was w^ell among the sawdust and sticks of 
dynamite. He cut the fuse to two minutes' length, and 
carried the box back among the big key logs that held 
the dam. He was soon ready. He jammed the box under 
water among beams where it would stick. A match 
started the fuse going, and then AVill climbed the ladder 
and ran for safety. 



238 STOEY-TELLINa 

In a few moments the explosion came. Will heard the 
beams in the gorge tumbling as the dam gave way, and 
the water behind was freed. Away it went, washing and 
pounding down the narrow ravine toward the low bottom. 

The fire-fighters heard the explosion and paused, won- 
dering, to listen. The next instant the roar of the water 
came to their ears, and the tremble caused by logs and 
boulders rolling with the fi.ood was felt. Then every man 
understood what was done, for they had been log-drivers 
all their lives, and knew the signs of a loosed sluice-gate 
or of a broken jam. 

They climbed the steep bank toward the buildings, to 
be above the fiood-line, yelling warnings that were half 
cheers. 

In a few moments the water was below the mouth of 
the gorge, and then it rushed over the low west bank of 
the brook and spread out on the wide flat where the fire 
was raging. For a minute clouds of steam and loud hiss- 
ing marked the progress of the wave, and then the brush- 
heaps from edge to edge of the valley bottom were cov- 
ered and the fire was drowned. 

The fires left in the trees above the high-water mark 
and the flames back on the ridge still thrust and flared, 
but were unable to cross the wide, wet flood-belt. The 
settlement and the " big woods " beyond were saved. 

Sol Cardin reached the settlement on the following day, 
and heard the story of the fire. In response to an offer 
from Will, he replied: 

** No, my boy, you needn't pay for the dam by work- 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIELS 239 

ing or anything else. I'm in debt to you for saving my 
timber above the settlement, instead." Then he added, 
in a quiet way, characteristic of him, " It seems a pity if 
wit like yours doesn't get its full growth," 

— Baymo'H'd S. Spears. ■ 

Merry Twinkle and the Dwarf * 

There was a dwarf who lived not long ago, in a corner 
of a strange country not more than a day's journey away. 
One needs only to set out toward the Twilight Westward 
and travel until he comes to the Deep Shadows. There 
he will find the bounds of the land of dwarfs ; and if he 
knows just how to search and where to look, he may get 
a quiet peep at the Little People as they work or play, eat 
and drink and make merry in their own country. 

The dAvarf I am to tell you about was not the jolly, red- 
faced, long-bearded little man you would be likely to 
meet in almost any quiet, early-evening ramble in that 
country. They are happy little fellows, always smiling 
with good humor and sometimes laughing aloud. This 
dwarf's face was wrinkled; his back was bent; he seemed 
to take no pleasure in anything ; and he was in every way 
as sad as any dAvarf in the whole country of the Twilight 
Westward. 

But before I tell you what was the matter with him, I 
want you to knoAv about the little girl who lived not far 
from the land of dwarfs, for, of course, there is a little 
girl in the story. 

* Reprinted from the StorijteUers' Magazine, June, 1913 



240 STOEY-TELLING 

Her mother Avas a widow who lived in a mite of a house 
in the edge of a grove of fine oak trees there on the bor- 
ders of Twilight Westward. Her name was Mrs. Trinkel, 
and her children Avere George and Mary and Alice. 
George, a stout, hearty lad of twelve, helped his mother 
a great deal as she worked to make a living for her little 
family. Alice was a sweet child of six. Merry Twinkle, 
as she was called because of her cheery smile, was ten. 
She was not very pretty, but everyone became so fond of 
her that at last her real name was forgotten. 

Mary's best dress was just clean, blue gingham, and 
her shoes were not bright and new; but her smile made 
everybody forget that she did not have pretty clothes. 
She was nearly always happy; but sometimes when she 
went to play with other children, and saw what pretty 
clothes and playthings they had, it almost made her cry. 

One afternoon as she was on her way home from a 
children 's party, she kept thinking of all the pretty 
clothes the other children had, and then of her own poor 
ones. Two tears were just ready for a race down her 
cheeks when she came to the crossroads. She was just 
about to sit down on a big stone and have a good cry, 
when she noticed someone else already sitting there. She 
was so much astonished to see who it was that she forgot 
all about crying. 

It was no one in his world but the sad dwarf, and 
he was surely a sorry little figure as he sat there upon 
the big stone. His wrinkled little face looked very woe- 
begone, and there may have been two tears in his eyes 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIELS 241 

ready for a race, but the road down liis clieeks was so 
rough that they were discouraged and did not start. 

Merry Twinkle was not at all frightened at the dwarf, 
for he was so small that he could not have caught her if 
he tried; and then he did not look as if he w^anted to 
harm, anyone. In fact, he seemed so troubled and sad 
that the little girl really wanted to help him. She just 
stopped and spoke kindly to him, and when she did that, 
she forgot her own troubles and her smiles came back 
again. 

" Good evening, Mr. Dwarf," she said; and he said, 
" Good evening " to her as pleasantly as he could when 
he Avas feeling so bad. 

*' Are you in some kind of trouble, that makes you 
look so sad, or is that the way you always look? " the 
little girl asked. 

" I am in trouble. I was not always sad as I am now." 

" Tell me about it, Mr. Dwarf and I will see if there is 
not some way for me to help you," said Merry Twinkle 
kindly. 

" I will tell you," he replied, " but I shall have to go 
back to the beginning of my story, so you will understand 
all about it. 

" I am not used to telling stories," he began, " but I 
suppose I must first tell you my name and where I live. " 

" Yes," said Merry Twinkle, " that's the way a story 
begins." 

*' Well, I am called the Golden Dwarf, and my home is 
yonder in the Twilight "Westward. I am rich now, but I 



242 STOEY-TELLING 

was once very poor and had to work long and hard 
before I became rich. It Avas while I was at work that my 
trouble began." 

" I am called the Golden Dwarf because I have always 
worked with gold to make all manner of fine things of 
it. The place where I worked was all dark except where 
it was lighted by the fire of my forge, in which I heated 
the bright, yellow gold. The forge blaze made a light 
place where I worked, but all back in the corners of the 
room it was dark, and there were Moving Shadows. I 
worked away very happily, until one day I thought of 
making a golden lining for my pocket. I was just finish- 
ing it and adjusting it, so that no matter how many gold 
coins I should take out one at a time, there would always 
be two left to clink together, when my fire began to die 
down, and it began to grow so dark that I could not see my 
work very well. I had to look very closely, and that 
brought my face very near the hot coals. The fire was 
so hot that I was afraid my smile would get scorched ; so 
I just took it off and laid it back in one corner among 
the Moving Shadows." 

" You took off your smile? " 

" Yes, and just as I got the lining arranged so that a 
new gold piece would always come into the pocket when 
I took one out, an Evil Genius crept in among the Mov- 
ing Shadows and stole my smile away." 

Here the Golden Dwarf sighed, and paused to see if 
the quiet little girl heard; and when he saw that she was 
eager for every word, he went on. 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIELS 243 

" That was a great many years ago. I did not miss my 
smile very much at first, because I was too busy taking 
gold pieces out of my pocket and listening for the clink 
of the new ones as they came in. I took them out one 
at a time until I had enough to buy all the country be- 
tween the Flowing River and the Purple Hills. I have 
everything now that I want except my smile ; but, since I 
have lost that, I have grown old and thin and wrinkled. 
I am afraid that I can never again be fat and jolly, as 
a dwarf should be, until I find my smile again. I am 
miserable without it, but I have searched for it high and 
low, and I cannot find a trace of it. " 

" Poor little old Dwarf," said Merry Twinkle. ** I 
should like to help you, but I don't see how I am to do it." 

" Well," said Golden Dwarf, " I have watched you 
many days, and have learned that on account of your 
cheery smile the people call you Merry Twinkle. I saw 
you pass this afternoon, and I noticed what a fine smile 
you were wearing. ' ' 

* ' But this is my own smile, Mr. Dwarf. ' ' 

"Yes," he continued sadly, "I know it is yours; 
but when I saw that your shoes were not shining and 
new, and that you wore just a clean, blue gingham dress, 
I knew then that you were poor; so I thought that you 
might like to sell your smile if you could get a good price 
for it." 

Merry Twinkle looked at the Dwarf and just then began 
to think how funny her big cheery smile would look upon 
his wrinkled little face; so she just had to laugh at the 



244 STOEY-TELLINa 

thought of it. Then she told the dwarf that her smile 
would be too big for such a little fellow. 

" Oh," said Golden Dwarf, " as for that, I think you 
are right; but I am sure I could get used to the smile 
by wearing it a little while at a time until I grow fat and 
round-faced and jolly enough to fit it." 

Merry Twinkle thought of all the useful and pretty 
things she eOuld buy for herself and her mother and the 
other children, if she sold the smile; so, at last, she 
agreed to let the Golden Dwarf have it. He promised that 
he would pay her for it by giving her anything she might 
ask. She could ask for but one thing each day, but as 
surely as asked for, the thing she wanted would come at 
twilight. She had only to make a wish at the time of 
sunrise, he said, and then wait till sunset to get the thing 
she wanted ; for in the twilight she could always find his 
gift behind the big stone at the cross-roads. 

When the bargain was finished. Merry Twinkle took off 
her smile and gave it to the Golden Dwarf. He was cer- 
tainly an odd figure as he trudged off down the road 
toward his own country. 

The big smile did not fit on his face. It was so loose 
that it kept slipping off, and he had to put it back several 
times in the first few minutes. It was the first smile the 
Golden Dwarf had owned in a long time ; so he was deter- 
mined to wear it even if it did feel awkward, and make 
him seem more foolish than jolly. Merry Twinkle was 
very sober without her smile and did not feel at all natural ; 
but when she thought of the many fine things she could 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIELS 245 

get for her mother and George and Alice, she was sure 
she would feel better about her bargain in a little while. 

When she got home, she found her mother sitting on 
the doorstep in the twilight, resting after her hard work 
of the day. The little girl walked up to her mother and 
sat down beside her before she began to speak. 

" Mother," she said soberly, " I met a dwarf down at 
the cross-roads and sold him my smile. Now you will not 
have to work so hard any more, for now I can get any- 
thing I want for all of us just for the wishing." 

" Oh Mary," exclaimed the mother, when she noticed 
that her little daughter's smile was gone. " I am afraid 
that you have made a very bad bargain ! I do not mind 
the work I have to do for you when you are so happy 
about the house ; but I can 't take any of these fine things 
you are to get when I see your face sad and without your 
merry twinkle. The people will forget that name for you 

now. 

******** 

Mary went to all the children's parties now and wore 
prettier clothes than any of her playmates, but no one 
called her Merry Twinkle any more. When the children 
played or laughed or danced, all she could do was to sit 
silently by, or tell them that she did not feel well, or make 
some other excuse to keep out of the games. She knew 
that if she played and did not laugh, the other children 
would see that she really had no smile any more. She 
became selfish. Her fine clothes did not make her look 
pretty, for she did not have a happy face to go with them. 



246 ' STORY-TELLING 

At last she became tired of her bargain with the Golden 
Dwarf and decided to wish for her smile at the next 
sunrise. 

She did not feel sure that the Dwarf would send it 
back to her, and she thought that he might even be angry 
with her when she wished for it. He might refuse to send 
the smile back, and even stop sending the beautiful things 
she wanted as well. She knew, though, that without her 
smile she would not look half so sad in her simple dress 
as she did in all the pretty clothes which the dwarf had 
sent her. She could hardly wait for the twilight the day 
she wished for her smile. As soon as the sun had set she 
started down the road. When she came to the crossing 
she saw the dwarf himself sitting on the flat stone. The 
smile looked a little better on him than it did when he 
first began to wear it, but it did not fit very well yet. 

" Good evening. Merry Twinkle," the Golden Dwarf 
began. 

" Good evening, Mr. Dwarf," she responded soberly, 
'' but nobody calls me that any more since my ismile is 
gone. ' ' 

" Then you've been unhappy with all the pretty things 
I sent, have you? " 

" No," said Mary slowly, " I liked the things very 
well, but Mother is grieved, and will not take any of the 
gifts ; and George and Alice are becoming greedy, and I 
am selfish now, so I just can't be happy without my smile." 

" Too bad," said the dwarf kindly. " But is that all 
your troubles?" 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIRLS 247 

" No, that is just the beginning. I am lonesome when 
the other children laugh and play and sing, and I cannot 
join them. I am afraid they will learn about the bargain 
I have made and will whisper to each other behind my 
back. ' ' That 's Mary Trinkel, the little girl who sold her 
smile. We used to call her Merry Twinkle." 

' ' Well, well, ' ' sighed the dwarf, ' ' I have not been happy 
myself. This smile is a good one, but it does not fit me. 
The other dwarfs laugh when I put it on, and say that 
I am too little for the smile I wear. It's too bad that I 
got so busy while making the golden lining for my pocket 
that I forgot my own smile and let the Evil Genius carry- 
it away. I think now that I could never wear any smile 
comfortably but one of my own." " You have always 
been good to me," he went on, '' and I should always like 
to send you anything you want; but there is a law in the 
Land of Twilight Westward which declares that no one 
may send anything out of the country until it has been 
paid for. I'll tell you what I'll do though," he added 
quickl}^, looking up in a pleased way as he thought of it. 
* ' While I can 't send you nice things out of our country, I 
can make your wants so few that you will always be happy 
and satisfied with what you have." 

" When I get my smile back," said Mary, " I am sure 
I shall be pleased with what I have, even though I have 
only the old shoes and my clean, blue gingham dress." 

Then the dwarf took off the smile and gave it to the 
little girl, and she put it on and was happy again. In 
her joy she began to feel sorry for the little old fellow, 



248 STOEY-TELLING 

who looked as thin and bent and pitiable after he had 
taken off the misfit smile as he did the first time she saw 
him. Indeed, she was so sorry for him that she just 
stooped down with her own sweet smile on her lips and 
gave him such a hearty kiss that a little smile all his own 
began to come around his mouth. It grew very fast, and 
in a very few minutes he had a full-grown smile which 
came from the little start Mary had left on his lips of 
her own free will. When the smile had grown to its full 
size, the little dwarf himself began to grow, and it was 
not long until he stood before Mary Trinkle just such a 
smiling, round-faced, jolly little man as a Golden Dwarf 
should be. 

He was so surprised and happy that for a moment he 
forgot about his promise to the little girl ; then it came 
back to him, and he said, '' Now, Merry Twinkle, everyone 
will call you that again, for you are now just as sweet 
and smiling as ever you were ; you must run home and 
make your mother happy again with your smile. I will 
see that you are always satisfied with what you have so 
long as you wear it." 

Merry Twinkle thanked the dwarf and turned into the 
road that led to her mother's cottage. The dwarf sat on 
the stone until she was nearly out of sight in the coming 
darkness. The sound of a happy little song came to 
him as he started down the road toward the Twilight West- 
■ward, smiling with a smile of his very own. 

— Allen Cross. 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIELS 249 

The Vision of Anton^ the Clock-Maker * 

Once upon a time there lived a near-sighted and obscure 
clock-maker in an ancient town in Flanders. It was in 
1400 and something, at about the time when new conti- 
nents were being discovered, and old continents were being 
ransacked for whatever might serve to enrich the life of 
Europe. We call it the period of the Renaissance; and 
this is the story of the Renaissance of Anton, the Flemish 
Clock-Maker. 

Anton was apprentice to an old craftsman who made 
clocks to help very rich people to know the time of day. 
No one but the rich could afford to buy clocks in those 
days ; so the old clock-maker needed but one assistant. They 
were crude clocks with but one hand, but they served the 
purpose. Anton, however, had a soul in his body, and he 
became very tired of bending eternally over his work bench, 
making one-handed clocks for people he didn't know. His 
was not a restless sort of soul, but a starved one, and it 
didn't know how to show Anton the way to better things 

So Anton decided to find out for himself. As he went 
about the streets of a Sunday, he heard of the good gray 
monks that lived beyond the hill. He was told that they 
were wise and kind, and that they made sure of their 
entrance into Heaven by many prayers and much fasting. 
They were so good that they had time enough left from their 
prayers to engage in scholarly pursuits. In short, they 

* Reprinted from "The Richer Life," by permission of Mr. 
Walter A. Dyer and The Pilgrim Press. Copyrighted, 



250 STOEY-TELLING 

lived an ideal kind of existence and one that Anton thought 
would satisfy the cravings of his soul. 

So one day Anton left the old clock-m;9.ker and journeyed 
over the hill to the monastery of the good gray monks. 
They took him in as a lay brother and set him to weeding 
the garden ; but soon they learned that he was skilled with 
tools, and they gave him the task of building the new altar 
in the chapel. 

When the altar was nearly finished, the abbot of the mon- 
astery came to Anton and said : ' ' My son, I perceive that 
thou hast much cunning. Canst thou carve a legend for 
the front of the altar? " 

** I can. Father," said Anton. 

So the abbot sought for a legend that would fit the space 
on the front of the altar, and after much searching he 
brought to Anton this : 

*' Where there is no Vision, the people perish." 

Anton accordingly selected a piece of hard, close-grained 
oak, and began to carve the legend. Now Anton possessed 
enough of the craftsman's soul to make him strive to carve 
the legend well, and he spent many days and took infinite 
pains. And as he worked he said the words over and over 
to himself: 

*' Where there is no Vision, the people perish." 

He found himself wondering what these words meant; 
and as he carved, his perplexity grew upon him. At last 
he could contain himself no longer, and he went to the 
abbot. 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIELS 251 

' ' Holy Father, ' ' said he, " I am. much troubled to know 
the meaning of the words thou hast given me to carve. ' ' 

Now the abbot had selected the legend without great 
thought. It sounded well, and it was the right length. So 
he made answer lightly. 

" Those, my son, are the words of a Wise ]\Ian of old. 
They refer to that divine guidance which saves men's souls, 
and which comes only through prayer and fasting. ' ' 

But Anton had prayed and fasted, and no Vision had 
come to him. He asked his brother monks to explain the 
words to him, but they could not satisfy him, and Anton 
nearly went mad in the endeavor to understand. 

When the carving was complete and the altar finished, 
Anton found no more work that interested him. He looked 
about him, and saw the monks feasting and fasting, pray- 
ing and working, but he could not discover to what pur- 
pose. 

" If it be true that without a Vision the people perish, ' ' 
he said to himself, " shall we not all perish? Not even the 
good gray monks have a Vision. They know not what a 
Vision is. 

So gradually he became dissatisfied with the monotonous 
life of the good gray monks, and their tiresome prayers 
and fastings to save their souls, until at last he could 
stand it no longer, and, never having taken the vows, he 
left the monastery. 

It was then that he bethought himself of the old clock- 
maker for whom he had worked in the town. He remem- 
bered how wise he was, and he sought the familiar shop. 



252 STOEY-TELLING 

The old clock-maker was glad of the return of so good a 
workman, and he received him joyfully. Then Anton told 
his story — how he had longed for something to satisfy 
his soul, how he had failed to find it even among the good 
gray monks, and how the words of the legend had per- 
plexed him. 

Then spake the wise old clock-maker. 
" A Vision," quoth he, " is something good and lofty 
and desirable which the soul may see, and having not, 
may reach forth to obtain. Without a Vision the body 
may live, but the soul is starved. It is death in life. Men 
may eat, and drink, and sleep, and laugh, and work, and 
quarrel, and beget children, and die, but all to no purpose. 
They might as well die in the first place, and so the Wise 
Man saith, ' Without a Vision, the people perish.' " 

' ' And what may I do to get a Vision, that I may live ? ' ' 
asked Anton. 

" He that seeketh, findeth," replied the clock-maker. 
" Where shall I seek? " asked Anton, 
" At thine own work-bench," was the answer. " Thou 
hast been to the monastery of the good gray monks and 
found no Vision there. Thou may 'st travel the world over, 
and no Vision will reward thy search. Look within thy 
heart, Anton, even into its hidden corners. Whatsoever 
thou findest that is good and worthy, examine it. Thus 
wilt thou find thy Vision. Do thy daily work, Anton, and 
let thy Vision, find thee working. Then shalt thou be ready 
to receive it, and the meaning of thy life and work will be 
jnade clear to thee, ' ' 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIRLS 253 

Anton marveled at the words of the wise old man, and 
pondered them in his heart as he went back to work at his 
bench. And every day he talked with the old clock-maker, 
and strove to learn, until at last the light broke in upon 
him, and he understood. For the meaning of the legend 
appears only through much thought and self-examination. 

A day came when the old clock-maker arose no more from 
his bed, and Anton took his place as master of the shop. 

" Now," he said, " I will see if I can find a way to 
work with a Vision, for I know it is better than to work 
without one." 

Every Sunday he went through the market place and 
talked with his fellow townsmen. He found that there 
were many things good and lofty and desirable that were 
lacking in their lives, but he could discover no way to 
supply them. His soul was reaching forth, but it had 
not yet laid hold on a Vision. 

One day in his shop, however, a Vision came to him. 
It was a little Vision, to be sure, but it was a beginning. 

" I cannot give bread to all the poor, or bring happiness 
to the miserable," he said. " I know only how to make 
clocks. So I will make a clock for the people, that they 
may have what only the rich may buy. ' ' 

So he set to work and built a huge clock, with two hands, 
like one he had seen that came from the South. Its face 
was two cubits across, and it was fashioned to run in all 
weathers. Beneath the face he carved and painted a legend : 

" "Where there is no Vision, the people perish." In 
twelve months the clock was done, and he received per- 



254 STOEY-TELLING 

mission to place it on the tower in the market place, where 
all men might see it and read the time of day. Many 
came and saw, and learned to tell the time from the fig- 
ures on the dial, and the clock became famous throughout 
Flanders. 

But there were many in the country-side who seldom 
came to the town, and so never were benefited by the clock, 
and it oecurred to Anton one day that the reason for this 
was that the roads were so poor. He was now a man of 
substance and influence in the town; so he went to the 
burgomaster and told him that he would like to build 
better roads for the country people to use in coming to 
town. It took him a long time to make the fat burgo- 
master see this Vision, but at last he succeeded, and the 
upshot of the matter was that in a few years there were 
fine, smooth roads running in all directions. 

Anton's fame spread throughout Flanders, and to make 
a long story short, the King at last sent for him and made 
him a counselor at the royal palace. This gave him a 
chance to broaden his Vision. He saw a greater and hap- 
pier Flanders, with the people prosperous in trade and 
industry and art, and when he died, full of years and 
honor, he left Flanders a better place because of his 
Vision. Anton the Clock-Maker was one who did not live 
in vain. — Walter A. Dyer. 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIRE GIRLS 255 

The Closing Door * 

There was once a little girl (her best and sweetest name 
was Little Daughter), who had a dear little room, all her 
own, which was full of treasures, and was as lovely as 
love could make it. 

You never could imagine, no matter how you tried, a room 
more beautiful than hers; for it was white and shining 
from the snowy floor to the ceiling, which looked as if it 
might have been made of a fleecy cloud. The curtains at 
the windows were like the petals of a lily, and the little 
bed was like swan's down. 

There were white pansies, too, that bloomed in the win- 
dows, and a dove whose voice was sweet as music ; and 
among her treasures she had a string of pearls which she 
was to wear about her neck when the king of the country 
sent foe her, as he had promised to do some day. 

This string of pearls grew longer and more beautiful 
as the little girl grew older, for a new pearl was given 
her as soon as she waked up each morning; and every one 
was a gift from this king, who bade her keep them fair. 

Her mother helped her to take care of them and of all 
the other beautiful things in her room. Every morning, 
after the new pearl was slipped on the string, they would 
set the room in order; and every evening they would look 
over the treasures and enjoy them together, while they 
carefully wiped away any specks of dust that had gotten 
in during the day and made the room less lovely. 

* Reprinted from " Mother Stories " through the courtesy of 
Miss Maud Lindsay, and Milton Bradley Co. Copyrighted, 1900. 



256 STOEY-TELLING 

There were several doors and windows, which the little 
girl could open and shut just as she pleased, in this room ; 
but there was one door which was always open, and that 
was the one which led into her mother's room. 

No matter what Little Daughter was doing she was hap- 
pier if her mother was near; and although she sometimes 
ran aM'^ay into her own room and played by herself, she 
always bounded out at her mother's first call, and, sprang 
into her mother's arms, gladder than ever to be with her 
because she had been away. 

Now one day when the little girl was playing alone, 
she had a visitor who came in without knocking and who 
seemed, at first, very much out of place in the shining 
white room, for he was a goblin and as black as a lump of 
coal. He had not been there more than a very few min- 
utes, however, before nearly everything in the room began 
to look more like him and less like the driven snow; and 
although the little girl thought that he was very strange 
and ugly when she first saw him, she soon grew used to 
him, and found him an entertaining playfellow. 

She wanted to call her mother to see him; but he said: 
' ' Oh ! no ; we are having such a nice time together, and 
she's busy, you know." So the little girl did not call; 
and the mother, who was making a dress of fine lace for 
her darling, did not dream that a goblin was in the little 
white room. 

The goblin did not make any noise, you know, for he 
tip-toed all the time, as if he were afraid ; and if he heard 
a sound he would jump. But he was a merry goblin, and 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIELS 257 

he amused tlie little girl so much that she did not notice 
the change in her dear room. 

The curtains grew dingy, the floor dusty, and the ceiling 
looked as if it might have been made of a rain cloud; 
but the child played on, and got out all her treasures to 
show to her visitor. 

The pansies drooped and faded, the white dove hid its 
head beneath its wing and moaned; and the last pearl on 
the precious string grew dark when the goblin touched it 
with his smutty fingers. 

'' Oh, dear me," said the little girl when she saw this, 
" I must call my mother; for these are the pearls that I 
must wear to the king's court, when he sends for me." 

" Never mind," said the goblin, " we can wash it, and 
if it isn't just as white as before, what difference does it 
make about one pearl? " 

" But mother says that they all must be as fair as the 
morning," insisted the little girl, ready to cry. " And 
what will she say when she sees this one ? ' ' 

" You shut the door, then," said the goblin, pointing 
to the door that had never been closed, '^ and I'll wash the 
pearl." So the little girl ran to close the door, and the 
goblin began to rub the pearl ; but it only seemed to grow 
darker. Now the door had been open so long that it was 
hard to move, and it creaked on its hinges as the little 
girl tried to close it. "When the mother heard this she 
looked up to see what was the matter. She had been 
thinking about the dress which she was making; but when 
she saw the closing door, her heart stood still with fear; 



258 STOEY-TELLING 

for she knew that if it once closed tight she might never be 
able to open it again. 

She dropped her fine laces and ran towards the door, 
calling, ' ' Little Daughter ! Little Daughter ! Where are 
you? " and she reached out her hands to stop the door. 
But as soon as the little girl heard that loving voice she 
answered : 

' ' Mother, oh ! Mother ! I need you so ! my pearl is turn- 
ing black and everything is wrong ! ' ' and, flinging the door 
wide open, she ran into her mother's arms. 

When the two went together into the little room, the 
goblin had gone. The pansies now bloomed again, and the 
white dove cooed in peace; but there was much work for 
the mother and daughter, and they rubbed and scrubbed 
and washed and swept and dusted, till the room was so 
beautiful that you would not have known that a goblin 
had been there — except for the one pearl, which was a 
little blue always, even when the king was ready for Little 
Daughter to come to his court, although that was not until 
she was a very old woman. 

As for the door, it was never closed again; for Little 
Daughter and her mother put two golden hearts against 
it and nothing in this world could have shut it then. 

— Maud Lindsay. 

The Selfish Giant 

Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the 
children used to go and play in the Giant's garden. 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIEE GIRLS 259 

It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. 
Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like 
stars, and there were twelve peach trees that in the spring- 
time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, 
and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the 
trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop 
their games in order to listen to them. " How happy we 
are here ! " they cried to each other. 

One day the giant came back. He had been to visit his 
friend, the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for 
seven years. After the seven years were over he had said 
all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, 
and he determined to return to his own castle. When 
he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden. 

' ' What are you doing there ? " he cried in a very gruff 
voice, and the children ran away. 

' ' My own garden is my own garden, ' ' said the Giant ; 
" any one can understand that, and I will allow nobody 
to play in it but myself." So he built a high wall all 
round it, and put up a notice-board. 

TRESPASSERS 

WILL BE 
PROSECUTED 

He was a very selfish giant. 

The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried 
to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and 
full of hard stones, and they did not like it. They used 



260 STOEY-TELLING 

to wander round the high wall when their lessons were 
over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside. " How 
happy we were there," they said to each other. 

Then the Spring came, and all over the country there 
were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of 
the Selfish Giant it was still winter. The birds did not 
care to sing in it, as there were no children, and the trees 
forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful flower puts its head 
out from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was 
so sorry for the children that it slipped back into the 
ground again, and went off to sleep. The only people who 
were pleased were the Snow and the Frost. '' Spring 
has forgotten this garden," they cried, "so we will live 
here all the year round." The Show covered up the grass 
with her great white cloak, and the Frost painted all the 
trees silver. Then they invited the North Wind to stay 
with them, and he came. He was wrapped in furs, and 
he roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney- 
pots down. " This is a delightful spot," he said; " we 
must ask the Hail on a visit." So the Hail came. Every 
day for three hours he rattled on the roof of the castle till 
he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and 
round the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed 
in gray, and his breath was like ice. 

" I can not understand why the Spring is so late in 
coming," said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window 
and looked out at his cold white garden; " I hope there 
will be a change in the weather." 

But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIKE GIELS 261 

Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the 
Giant's garden she gave none. " He is too selfish," she 
said. So it was always winter there, and the North Wind, 
and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about 
through the trees. 

One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when 
he heard some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his 
ears that he thought it must be the King's musicians pass- 
ing by. It was really only a little linnet singing outside 
his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird 
sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most 
beautiful music in the world. Then the Hail stopped 
dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, 
and a delicious perfume came to him through the open 
casement. " I believe the Spring has come at last," said 
the Giant ; and he jumped out of bed and looked out. 

What did he see ? 

He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in 
the wall the children had crept in, and they were sitting 
in the branches of the trees. In every tree that he could 
see there was a little child. And the trees were so glad 
to have the children back again that they had covered 
themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms 
gently above the children's heads. The birds were flying 
about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were 
looking up through the green grass and laughing. It was 
a lovely scene; only in one corner it was still winter. It 
was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was 
standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not 



262 STOEY-TELLING 

reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was wander- 
ing all around it, crying bitterly. The poor tree was still 
quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was 
blowing and roaring above it. " Climb up! little boy," 
said the Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as 
it could; but the boy was too tiny. 

And the Giant's heart melted as he looked out. " How 
selfish I have been ! " he said ; ' ' now I know why the 
Spring would not. come here. I will put that poor little 
boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down 
the wall, and my garden shall be the children 's playground 
forever and ever;" He was really very sorry for what he 
had done. 

So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite 
softly, and went out into the garden. But when the chil- 
dren saw him they were so frightened that they all ran 
away, and the garden became winter again. Only the 
little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears 
that he did not see the Giant coming. And the Giant 
strode up behind him and took him gently in his hand, 
and put him up into the tree. And the tree broke at once 
into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the 
little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round 
the Giant's neck and kissed him. And the other children, 
when they saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer, 
came running back, and with them came the Spring. " It 
is your garden now, little children, ' ' said the Giant, and he 
took a great axe and knocked down the wall. And when the 
people were going to market at twelve o'clock they found 



BOY SCOUTS AND CAMPFIRE GIELS 263 

the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful 
garden they had ever seen. 

All day long they played, and in the evening they 
came to the Giant to bid him good-bye. 

" But where is your little companion? " he said; " the 
boy I put into the tree." The Giant loved him the best 
because he had kissed him. 

" We don't know," answered the children ; " he has gone 
away. ' ' 

' ' You must tell him to be sure to come here to-morrow, ' ' 
said the Giant. But the children said that they did not 
know where he lived, and had never seen him before ; 
and the Giant felt very sad. 

Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came 
and played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the 
Giant loved was never seen again. The Giant was very 
kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first little 
friend, and often spoke of him. " How I should like to 
see him ! " he used to say. 

Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and 
feeble. He could not play about any more ; so he sat in a 
huge armchair, and watched the children at their games, 
and admired his garden. ' ' I have many beautiful flowers, ' ' 
he said; " but the children are the most beautiful flowers 
of all." 

One winter morning' he looked out of his window as he 
was dressing. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew 
that it was merely the Spring; asleep, and that the flowers 
were resting. 



264 STORY-TELLING 

Suddenly lie rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and 
looked. It certainly was a marvelous sight. In the far- 
thest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered with 
lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and 
silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood 
the little boy he had loved. 

Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the 
garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near 
to the child. And when he came quite close his face 
grew red with anger, and he said, '' "Who hath dared to 
wound thee ? " For on the palms of the child's hands were 
the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on 
the little feet. 

* ' Who hath dared to wound thee ? ' ' cried the Giant ; 
*' tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him." 

" Nay! " answered the child; " but these are the wounds 
of Love. ' ' 

'* Who art thou? "said the Giant, and a strange awe fell 
on him, and he knelt before the little child. 

And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, ' ' You 
let me play once in your garden; to-day you shall come 
with me to my garden, which is Paradise." 

And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found 
the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white 
blossoms. — Oscar Wilde. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Alden, Raymond McDonald, ''Why the Chimes Ring." 
$1.25, Bobbs-Merrill Co. 1906. 

Andrews, Mary Raymond SJiipman, "The Perfect Trib- 
ute." 50 cents, Scribners. 1911. 

Austin, Mrs. Mary, "The Basket Woman." $1.50, Hough- 
ton Mifflin Co. 1904. 

Bailey, Carolyn SJierwin, "Firelight Stories." $1.00, Mil- 
ton Bradley Co. 1907. 

Bailey, Carolyn Slierwin, and Lewis, Clara M., "For the 
Children's Hour." $1.50, Milton Bradley Co. 1906. 

Baldivin, James, "Old Stories of the East." 45 cents, 
American Book Co. 

Barber, Grace Edson, "Wagner Opera Stories." 50 cents. 
Public School Publishing Co. 1913. 

Barrie, James M., "Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens." 
$1.50, Scribner. 1910. 

Bryant, Sara Cone, "How to Tell Stories to Children." 
$1.00, Houghton Mifflin Co. 1905. 

Bryant, Sara Cone, "Stories to Tell to Children." $1.00, 
Houghton Mifflin Co. 1907. 

Cowles, Julia Darrow, ' ' The Art of Story- Telling. ' ' $1.00, 
A. C. McClurg & Co. 1914. 

Davis, Mary Hayes, and CJiow-Leung, ' ' Chinese Fables and 
Folk Stories. " 40 cents, American Book Co. 1908. 

Dillingliam, Elizahetli Thompson, and Emerson, Adelle 
Powers, " 'Tell It Again' Stories." 50 cents, Ginn & Co. 
1911. 

Field, Walter Taylor, "The Quest of the Four-Leaf 
Clover." 45 cents, Ginn & Co. 

265 



266 STOEY-TELLING 

Foster, Mary H., and Cummings, Mabel H., "Asgard 

Stories." 36 cents, Silver, Burdett & Co. 1901. 
Gatty, Mrs. Margaret, "Parables from Nature." (Every- 
man's Library.) 40 cents, E. P. Button. 1905. 
Harris, Joel Chandler, ' ' Nights with Uncle Remus. ' ' $1.50, 

Houghton Mifflin Co. 1904. 
Harris, Joel CJiandler, "Plantation Pageants." $2.00, 

Houghton Mifflin Co. 1899. 
Harris, Joel Chandler, "Uncle Remus, His Songs and His 

Sayings." $2.00, Appleton & Co. 1908. 
Harris, Joel Chandler, "Uncle Remus and His Friends." 

$1.50, Houghton ]\Iifflin Co. 
Harris, Joel Chandler, "Little Mr. Thimblefinger. " 40 

cents, Houghton Mifflin Co. 1910. 
Harte, Bret, "Luck of Roaring Camp and Other Sketches." 

$1.25, Houghton Mifflin Co. 
Hawthorne, Nathaniel, "A Wonder Book." 25 cents, 

Houghton Mifiain Co. 1895. 
Holhrook, Florence, "The Book of Nature Myths." 65 

cents, Houghton Mifflin Co. 1902. 
Jacobs, Joseph, "Celtic Fairy Tales." $1.25, Putnam. 
Judd, Mary Catherine, ' ' Wigwam Stories. ' ' 90 cents, G-inn 

& Co. 1913. 
Keyes, Angela M., "Stories and Story- T elling. " $1.25, 

Appleton & Co. 1914. 
Kipling, Budyard, "The Jungle Book." $1.50, Century 

Co. 
Kipling, Rudyard, "The Second Jungle Book." $1.50, 

Century Co. 1899. 
Kipling, Budyard^ "Just So Stories." $1.20, Doubleday, 

Page & Co. 1902. 
Kipling, Budyard, "Wee Willie Winkie." $1.50, Double- 
day, Page & Co. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 267 

Lagerldf, Sehna, "Christ Legends." $1.25, Henry Holt & 

Co. 1908. 
Lindsay, Maud, "Mother Stories." $1.00, Milton Bradley 

Co. 1905. 
Lindsaij, Maud, "More Mother Stories." $1.00, Milton 

Bradley & Co. 1905. 
Lyman, Edna, "Story Telling, What to Tell and How to 

Tell It." 75 cents, A. C. McClurg & Co. 1910. 
3Iahie, Hamilton Wriglit, "Heroes Every Child Should 

Know." 50 cents, H. B. Claflin Co. 1913. 
Mdbie, Hamilton Wriglit, and Stephens, Kate, "Heroines 

Every Child Should Know." 50 cents, H. B. Claflin Co. 

1913. 
Mabie, Hamilton Wriglit, "Legends Every Child Should 

Know." 90 cents, Doubleday & Co. 1908. 
Mahie, Hamilton Wriglit, "Myths Every Child Should 

Know." 50 cents, H. B. Claflin Co. 1913. 
Mahie, Hamilton Wriglit, "Norse Stories Retold from the 

Eddas." 40 cents, Rand McNally & Co. 1902. 
Maeterlinck, Madame Mfnmce, "The Children's Bluebird." 

$2.50, Dodd, Mead & Co. 1913. 
Martin, Winona C, "The Story of King Arthur." 60 

cents. Story- Tellers Co. 
Miller, Olive Tliorne, ' ' The Second Book of Birds. ' ' $1.00, 

Houghton Mifflin Co. 1901. 
Miller, Joaquin, "True Bear Stories." $1.00, Rand Mc- 
Nally Co. 1900. 
Mills, Enos A., ' ' Wild Life on the Rockies. ' ' $1.75, Hough- 
ton Mifflin Co. 1909. 
Mills, Enos A., "In the Beaver World." $1.75, Houghton 

Mifflin Co. 1913. 
Olcott, Frances Jenkins, "The Arabian Nights." $1.50, 

Henry Holt & Co. 1913. 



268 STOEY-TELLING 

Olcott, Frances Jenkins, "Good Stories for Great Hol- 
idays." $2.00, Houghton Mifflin Co. 1914. 

Partridge, Emelyn N. and George E., "'Story-Telling in 
Home and School." $1.25, Sturgis & Walton Co. 1913. 

Partridge, E. N., "Glooscap, the Great Chief, and Other 
Stories." $1.25, Sturgis & Walton Co. 

Poulsson, Emilie, "In the Child's World." $2.00, Milton 
Bradley Co. 

Proudfoot, Andrea Hofer, ''Child's Christ-Tales." $1.00, 
A. Flannagan Co. 

Richards, Laura E., "Florence Nightingale." $1.25, Ap- 
pleton & Co. 1909. 

Ricliards, Laura E., "The Golden Windows." $1.00, Lit- 
tle, Brown & Co. 1903. 

Eicliards, Laura E., "Five Minute Stories." $1.25, Dana 
Estes & Co. 

Boulet, Mary F. Nixon-, "Japanese Folk Stories and Fairy 
Tales." 40 cents, American Book Co. 1908. 

Scohey, Katlierine Lois, and Home, Olive Brown, "Stories 
of Great Musicians." 40 cents, American Book Co. 1905. 

Seton, Ernest Tliompson, "Lives of the Hunted." $2.00, 
Scribner. 

Seton, Ernest Tliompson, "Wild Animals at Home." $1.50, 
Doubleday, Page & Co. 1913. 

SJiarman, Lyon, "Bamboo, Tales of the Orient Born." 
$1.00, Paul Elder & Co. 1914. 

Sly, William J., "World Stories Retold." $1.00, Griffith & 
Rowland Press. 1914. 

Stawell, Mrs. RodolpJia, "My Days with the Fairies." 
$1.50, George Doran Co. 

Steedman, Amy, "In God's Garden." $1.25, George W. 
Jacobs & Co. 

Tappan, Eva MarcJi, "Robin Hood, His Book." $1.50, Lit- 
tle, Brown & Co. 1903. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 269 

Upton, George P., "William Tell, Life Stories for Young 

People." 50 cents, Putnam. 
Van Dijke, Henrtj, "The Blue Flower." $1.50, Scribner. 

1902. 
Wade, Mrs. Mary Hazelfon, "The Wonder Workers." 

$1.00, Little, Brown & Co. 1912. 
WJieelock, ElizahetJi M., "Stories of Wagner Operas, Told 

for Children." $1.25, Bobbs-Merrill Co. 1910. 
WUte, William Allen, "The Court of Boyville." $1.50, 

MacMillan & Co. 
Wiggin, Fate Douglas, and SmitJi, Nora ArcJiihald, "Tales 

of Laughter." $1.50, Doubleday, Page & Co. 1908. 
Wiggin, Kate Douglas, and SmitJi, Nora ArcJiihald, "The 

Story Hour." Houghton Mifflin Co. 
Wilde, Oscar, ' ' The Happy Prince and Other Fairy Tales. ' ' 

$1.50, Frederick A. Stokes. 
Williston, Teresa, "Japanese Fairy Tales." Series First 

and Second. 45 cents. Rand McNally Co. 1904. 
Wiltse, Sara E., "Hero Folk of Ancient Britain." 45 

cents, Ginn & Co. 1911. 
Wyclie, BicJiard Tliomas, "Some Great Stories and How 

to Tell Them." $1.00, Newson & Co. 1910. 
Zitkala-Sa, "Old Indian Legends." 75 cents, Ginn & Co. 

1901. 



STORIES FOR TELLING 

Arranged by School Grades 
Grade I 

Fairy Tales and Folk Lore. 

Nimmy, Nimmy Not. "Story-Telling in Home and 

School," E. N. and G. E. Partridge. 
The Foolish Bears. Storytellers' Magazine, March, 1914. 
The Straw, the Coal and the Bean. ' ' For the Children 's 

Hour," Bailey and Lewis. 
The Gingerbread Boy. "For the Children's Hour," 

Bailey and Lewis. 
The Princess and Her Golden Ball. " 'Tell It Again' 

Stories," Dillingliam and Emerson. 
Cinderella and the Glass Slipper. " 'Tell It Again' 

Stories," Dillingliam and Emerson. 
Thumbelina. "Stories and Story-Telling," Angela M. 

Keyes. ' 

The Fairy Horseshoe. "Stories and Story- Telling, " 

Angela M. Keyes. 

Nature Stories and Animal Stories. 

How the Peacock Got His Tail. " 'Tell It Again' 

Stories," Dillingliam and Emerson. 

Four Little Pigs. ' ' ' Tell It Again' Stories," Dillingliam 
and Emerson. 

The Little Acorn. " 'Tell It Again' Stories," Dilling- 
liam and Emerson. 

Mrs. Tabbey Gray. "Mother Stories," Maud Lindsay. 

270 



STORIES FOR TELLING 271 

The Little Gray Pony. ''Mother Stories," Maud Lind- 
say. 

Inside the Garden Gate. ' ' Mother Stories, ' ' Maud Lmd- 
say. 

Irmgard 's Cow. ' ' More Mother Stories, ' ' Maud Lindsay. 

Dumpy, the Pony. "]\Iore Mother Stories," Maud Lind- 
say. 

Patsy, the Calf. "More Mother Stories, " il/aiifZ Lindsay. 

For a fuller list see "Index to Short Stories" by Salisbury and 
Beckwith, published by Row, Peterson & Co. 

The White Dove. "More Mother Stories," Maud Lind- 
say. 
Why the Wind Changed. ' ' My Days with the Fairies, ' ' 

Mrs. RodolpJi Stawell. 
The Little Brown Fairy. Storytellers' Magazine, June, 

1914. 
The Cloud. "Stories to Tell to Children," Sara Cone 

Bryant. 
Why the Bear Sleeps All Winter. "Firelight Stories," 

Carolyn S. Bailey. 
Pussy Willows. "The Art of Story- Telling," Julia 

Darrow Cowles. 
The Chestnut Boys. "In the Child's World," Emilie 

Poulsson. 
Raggylug. "How to Tell Stories to Children," Sara 

Cone Bryant. 

Holiday Stories. 

The Fairy's New Year Gift. "In the Child's World," 

Emilie Poulsson. 
Elaine's Valentines. " 'Tell It Again' Stories," Dilling- 

liam and Emerson. 
Golden Cobwebs. "How to Tell Stories to Children," 

Sara Cone Bryant. 



272 STORY-TELLING 

The Story of Gretchen. "Mother Stories," Maud Lind- 
say. 

The Stars and the Child. ' ' Child 's Christ-Tales, ' ' Andrea 
Hofer Proudfoot. 

Herr Oster Hase. *'For the Children's Hour," Bailey 
and Lewis. 

Little George Washington. ' ' The Story Hour, ' ' Wiggin 
and Smith. 

Great George Washington. "The Story Hour," Wiggin 
and Smith. 

The First Thanksgiving Day. ' ' The Story Hour, ' ' Wig- 
gin and Smith. 

The Christmas Cake. "More Mother Stories," Maud 
Lindsay. 

The Christmas Stocking. ' ' More Mother Stories, ' ' Maud 
Lindsay. 

The Visit. ' ' More Mother Stories, ' ' Maud Lindsay. 

The Turkey's Nest. "More Mother Stories," Maud Lind- 
say. 

The First Flag of the United States. " 'Tell It Again' 
Stories," Dillingham and Emerson. 

The Story of Christmas. "How to Tell Stories to Chil- 
dren," Sa7'a Cone Bryant. 
Ethical and Biblical. 

Moses in the Bulrushes. * ' ' Tell It Again ' Stories, ' ' Dil- 
lingham and Emerson. 

Noah and the Ark. ' ' ' Tell It Again ' Stories, ' ' Dilling- 
ham and Emerson. 

Dilly Dally. " 'Tell It Again' Stories," Dillingham and 
Emerson. 

The Bell of Atri. ' ' ' Tell It Again ' Stories, ' ' Dillingham 
and Emerson. 

The Cooky. "The Golden Windows," Laura E. Rich- 
ards. 



STORIES FOR TELLING 273 

The Pig Brother. ''The Golden Windows," Laura E. 

Richards. 
The Little Rabbit who Wanted Red Wings. "For the 

Story Teller," Carolyn S. Bailey. 

Humorous. 

How Brother Rabbit Fooled the Whale and the Elephant. 
"Stories to Tell to Children," Sara Cone Bryant. 

The Little Jackal and the Camel. "Stories to Tell to 
Children," Sara Cone Bryant, 

How Drakesbill Went to the King. ' ' Firelight Stories, ' ' 
Carolyn S. Bailey. 

The Kid who Would Not Go. "Firelight Stories," Car- 
olyn S. Bailey. 

The Travels of a Fox. "For the Story Teller," Carolyn 
S. Bailey. 

Grade II 

Fairy Tales and Folk Lore. 

The Stone Lion. ' ' Story-Telling in Home and School, ' ' 

E. N. and G. E. Partridge. 
The Two Young Lions. Storytellers' Magazine, March, 

1914. 
Talking Bells. Storytellers' Magazine, September, 1914. 
Anders' New Cap. Storytellers' Magazine, November, 

1914. 
The Choice of the Princess. ' ' Japanese Folk Stories and 

Fairy Tales," Mary F. Nixon-Roidet. 
The Pied Piper of Hamelin Town. ' ' How to Tell Stories 

to Children," Sara Cone Bryant. 
Hans and the Wonderful Flower. "For the Children's 

Hour," Bailey and Lewis. 
Rump el- Stilts-Kin. "For the Children's Hour," Bailey 

and Lewis. 



274 STOEY-TELLING 

The House in the Wood. "For the Children's Hour," 

Bailey and Lewis. 
Fairy Linen. ' ' ' Tell It Again ' Stories, ' ' DillingJiam and 

Emerson. 

Nature Stories and Animal Stories. 

"Why the Sea Is Salt. "The Book of Nature Myths," 

Florence Eolhrook. 
Why the Bear Has a Short Tail. "The Book of Nature 

Myths," Florence Holhrook. 
The Quarrel of the Kainbow Colors. Storytellers' Mag- 
azine, September, 1914. 
The Legend of the Dandelion. "For the Children's 

Hour, ' ' Bailey and Lewis. 
Opechee, the Robin Redbreast. ' ' Wigwam Stories, ' ' Mary 

Cafherine Judd. 
The Woodpecker. "Story Telling, What to Tell and 

How to Tell It," Edna Lyman. 
The Tongue-Cut Sparrow. ' ' Story Telling, What to Tell 

and How to Tell It, ' ' Edna Lyman. 
How the Water Lily Came. "Wigwam Stories," Mary 

Cafherine Judd. 
The Maple-Leaf and the Violet. "The Story Hour," 

Wiggin and Smitli. 
Why the Morning-Glory Climbs, "How to Tell Stories 

to Children," Sara Cone Bryant. 
The Story of the First Humming-Bird. "The Book of 

Nature Myths," Florence Holbook. 
The Story of the Vine Dryad. Storytellers' Magazine, 

November, 1914. 
Hans and His Dog. " More Mother Stories, ' ' Maud Lind- 
say. 
> The Little Shepherd. "More Mother Stories," Maud 

Lindsay. 



STORIES FOR TELLING 275 

Mrs. Specklety Hen. ''More Mother Stories," 3Iaud 

Lindsay. 
Johnny Bear. ' ' Lives of the Hunted, ' ' Ernest Tlwmpson 

Seton. 

Holiday Stories. 

The Forest Full of Friends. "Why the Chimes Eang," 

Raymond McDonald Alden. 
The Marriage of Mondahmin. ' ' Wigwam Stories, ' ' Mary 

CatJierine Judd. 
The Story of Ruth and Naomi. ''For the Children's 

Hour, ' ' Bailey and Lewis. 
The Story of the First Corn. "For the Children's 

Hour, ' ' Bailey and Lewis. 
How the Fir Tree Became the Christmas Tree. "For 

the Children 's Hour, ' ' Bailey and Lewis. 
Mrs. Santa Claus. "For the Children's Hour," Bailey 

and Lewis. 
The Coming of the King. "For the Children's Hour," 

Bailey and Lewis. ' 

A Christmas Legend. " 'Tell It Again' Stories," Dil- 

lingJiam and Emerson. 
The Kitten That Wanted to Be a Christmas Present. 

" 'Tell It Again' Stories," Dillingliam and Emerson. 
A Hallowe 'en Story. ' ' ' Tell It Again ' Stories, ' ' Dilling- 
liam and Emerson. 
A Boy's Visit to Santa Claus. "Some Great Stories and 

How to Tell Them," Richard T. Wyclie. 
Young Washington and the Colt. "Good Stories for 

Great Holidays," Frances Jenkins Olcott. 
The Three Little Butterfly Brothers. ' ' Good Stories for 

Great Holidays," Frances Jenkins Olcott. 
The Stream That Ran Away. "The Basket Woman," 

Mary Austin. 



276 STOEY-TELLING 

Biblical and Ethical. 

The Master of the Land of the Nile. "Old Stories of 
the East," James Baldwin. 

The Garden of Delight. "Old Stories of the East," 
James Baldwin. 

The Two Brothers. "Old Stories of the East," James 
Baldwin. 

The Shepherd Boy who Became King. "Old Stories of 
the East, " James Baldwin. 

The Open Gate. "Mother Stories," Maud Lindsay. 

Dust Under the Rug. ' ' Mother Stories, ' ' Maud Lindsay. 

Wishing Wishes. "More Mother Stories," Maud Lind- 
say. 

Humorous. 

The Elephant Child. "Just So Stories," Eudyard Kip- 
ling. 

How the Camel Got His Hump. "Just. So Stories," 
Budyard Kipling. 

The Hobyahs. "Firelight Stories," Carolyn 8. Bailey. 

The Little Old Woman who Went to the North Wind. 
"Firelight Stories," Carolyn S. Bailey. 

Why the Tail of the Fox Has a White Tip. "The Book 
of Nature Myths," Florence Holbrook. 

_ . _ , Grade III 

Fairy Tales. 

Jack and the Bean Stalk. "Hero Folk of Ancient 
Britain, ' ' Sara E. Wiltse. 

Jack, the Giant Killer. ' ' Hero Folk of Ancient Britain, ' ' 
Sara E. Wiltse. 

Tom Thumb. "Hero Folk of Ancient Britain," Sara E. 
Wiltse. 

The Sunshine Fairies. Storytellers' Magazine, Novem- 
ber, 1913. 



STORIES FOR TELLING 277 

Jack and His Brothers. Storytellers' Magazine, July, 
1914. 

The Lad who Went to the North Wind. Storytellers' 
Magazine, March, 1914. 

The Seven Kavens. Storytellers' Magazine, September, 
1914. 

Jack and Jill's Visit to the Moon. Storytellers' Mag- 
azine, September, 1914, 

The Enchanted Princess. Storytellers' Magazine, Octo- 
ber, 1914. 

East of the Sun and West of the Moon. "The Blue 
Fairy Book," Andrew Lang. 

The Waterfall which Flowed Sake. "Japanese Folk 
Stories and Fairy Tales, ' ' Mary F. Nixon-Eoulet. 

The Painter of Cats. ' ' Japanese Folk Stories and Fairy 
Tales, ' ' 3Iary F. Nixon-Eoulet. 

Freya's Necklace. "Asgard Stories," Foster and Gum- 
ming s. 

Tyr and the Wolf. ' ' Asgard Stories, ' ' Foster and Cum- 
mings. 

Norse Stories, Hamilton W. Mahie. 

The Mirror of Matsuyama, "Japanese Fairy Tales," 
Teresa Williston. First Series. 

The Stolen Charm. "Japanese Fairy Tales," Teresa 
Williston. First Series. 

The Fairy Bird. ' ' Story-Telling in Home and School, ' ' 
E. N. and G. E. Partridge. 

Lox and the Bear. ' ' Story- Telling in Home and School, ' ' 
E. N. and G. E. Partridge. 

Nature and Animal Stories. 

The Death of Baldur. "Story-Telling in Home and 
School," E. N, and G. E. Partridge. 



278 STOEY-TELLINa 

The Goddess of Green-Growing Things. ' ' Japanese Folk 

Stories and Fairy Tales," 3Iary F. Nixon-Boulet. 
The Miraculous Pitcher. ' ' A "Wonder Book, ' ' NatJianiel 

HawtJiorne. 
What Was Her Name? "Five Minute Stories," Laura 

E. Bicliards. 
Mother Teal and the Overland Route. "Lives of the 

Hunted," Ernest TJiompson Seton. 
Why the Peacock's Tail Has a Hundred Eyes. "The 

Book of Nature Myths," Florence Holbrook. 
Why the Rabbit Is Timid. * ' The Book of Nature Myths, ' ' 

Florence Holbrook. 
How Fire Was Brought to the Indians. "The Book of 

Nature Myths," Florence Holhrook. 
The Lilac Bush. "Riverside Fourth Reader." 
The Girl who Became a Pine Tree. "Wigwam Stories," 

Mary CatJiet-ine Judd. 
The First Rabbits. "Japanese Fairy Tales," Teresa 

Williston. Second Series. 

Ethical and Biblical. 

The Cap That Mother I\Iade. "For the Story Teller," 
Carolyn Bailey. 

The Golden Windows. "The Golden Windows," Laura 
E. Bicliards. 

About Angels. ' ' The Golden Windows, ' ' Laura E. Bicli- 
ards. 

The Ten Fairies. "Stories to Tell to Children," Sara 
Cone Bryant. 

The Miracle of Love. Storytellers ' Magazine, November, 
1913. 

The Search for a Good Child. "Mother Stories," Maud 
Lindsay, 



STORIES FOR TELLING 279 

The Two Paths. "More Mother Stories," Maud Lind- 
say. 

The Broken Window Pane. "More Mother Stories," 
Maud Lindsay. 

The Story of Nehemiah. "For the Children's Hour," 
Bailey and Leivis. 

The Great Chief. "Old Stories of the East," James 
Baldwin. 

The Cripple at the Beautiful Gate, ' ' World Stories Re- 
told," William J. Sly. 

The Girl who Knew She Was Right. "World Stories 
Retold," William J. Sly. 

The Prisoner and the Shipwreck. "World Stories Re- 
told," William J. Sly. 

The Slave who Ran Away from His Master. "World 
Stories Retold, ' ' William J. Sly. 

Holiday Stories. 

The Christmas Visitor. Storytellers' Magazine, Decem- 
ber, 1913. 

Little Gretchen and the Wooden Shoe. Storytellers' 
Magazine, December, 1914. 

The First Christmas Tree. "The Blue Flower," Henry 
Van Dyke. 

The Spirit of the Corn. "Good Stories for Great Hol- 
idays," Frances Jenkins Olcott. 

The Nutcracker Dwarf. "Good Stories for Great Hol- 
idays," Frances Jenkins Olcott. 

The Stranger Child. "Good Stories for Great Hol- 
idays," Frances Jenkins Olcott. 

A Lesson in Faith. "Parables from Nature," Margaret 
Gatty. 



280 STORY-TELLING 

Humorous Stories. 

The Little Jackal and the Alligator. ' ' Stories to Tell to 
Children," Sara Cone Bryant. 

The Brahmin, the Tiger and the Jackal. * ' Stories to Tell 
to Children," Sara Cone Bryant. 

The Grandmother of the Dolls. ''Little Mr. Thimble- 
finger," Joel Chandler Harris. 

How Brother Bear's Hair Was Combed. "Little Mr. 
Thimblefinger, " Joel Chandler Harris. 

Grade IV 
Fairy Tales. 

Tom, the Water Baby. "The Water Babies," Charles 
Kinsley. 

Old Pipes and the Dryad. "Story Telling, What to Tell 
and How to Tell It, ' ' Edna Lyman. 

Barney Noonan's Fairy Haymakers. Storytellers' Mag- 
azine, October, 1913. 

Cally Coo-Coo o' the Woods. Storytellers' Magazine, 
October, 1913. 

The Happy Hunter and the Lucky Fisherman. Story- 
tellers' Magazine, February, 1914. 

The Wise and the Foolish Merchant. Storytellers' Mag- 
azine, April, 1914. 

How Momek Rode the Fire Horse. Storytellers' Mag- 
azine, May, 1914. 

The Little Cowherd Brother. "Story-Telling in Home 
and School," E. N. and G. E. Partridge. 

Adventures of Theseus. "Story-Telling in Home and 
School," E. N. and G. E. Partridge. 

Peach Darling. "Japanese Fairy Tales," Teresa Wil- 
liston. Second Series. 

King Midas' Ears. "The Art of Story- Telling, " Julia 
Darrow Cowles. 



STORIES FOR TELLING 281 

Princess Moonbeam. "Japanese Folk Stories and Fairy 

Tales, ' ' Mary F. Nixon-Roulet. 
The Two Brothers. "Japanese Folk Stories and Fairy 

Tales," 3Iary F. Nixon-Boulet. 
The Boastful Bamboo. "Japanese Folk Stories and 

Fairy Tales," Mary F. Nixon-Roulet. 
The Story of Rhoecus. Storytellers' Magazine, June, 

1914. 

Nature and Animal Stories. 

Legend of the Yucca Plant. Storytellers' Magazine, 

July, 1914. 
The Twelve Months, Storytellers' Magazine, June, 1913. 
The Nightingale. "Stories to Tell to Children," Sara 

Cone Bryant. 
The Gulls of Salt Lake. "Stories to Tell to Children," 

Sara Cone Bryant. 
How Summer Came to Earth. "The Book of Nature 

Myths," Florence Holbrook. 
Why the Water in Rivers Is Never Still. "The Book of 

Nature Myths," Florence Holbrook. 
The Story of Wylie. ' ' How to Tell Stories to Children, ' ' 

Sara Cone Bryant. 
The Strange Story of a Wonderful Sea God. Storytel- 
lers' Magazine, September, 1914. 

Holiday Stories. 

Paulina's Christmas, Storytellers' Magazine, Decem- 
ber, 1913. 

The Christmas Bells. Storytellers' Magazine, Decem- 
ber, 1914. 

The Little Picture Girl. Storytellers' Magazine, Decem- 
ber, 1914. 

Why the Chimes Rang, Raymond M. Alden. 



282 STORY-TELLING 

How Indian Corn Came into the World. "Good Stories 
for Great Holidays," Frances J. Olcott. 

The Christmas Cuckoo. "Good Stories for Great Hol- 
idays," Frances J. Olcott. 

The Christmas Fairy of Strasburg. "Good Stories for 
Great Holidays," Frances J. Olcott. 

Little Piecola. "Good Stories for Great Holidays," 
Frances J. Olcott. 

The King's Birthday. "Mother Stories," Maud Lind- 
say. 

Biblical and Ethical Stories. 

The Story of the Boy Abraham. ' * Story- Telling in Home 

and School, " E. N. and G. E. Partridge. 
The Castle on the Mountain. Storytellers' Magazine, 

March, 1914. 
The Stone Cutter. Storytellers' Magazine, April, 1914. 
The Knights of the Silver Shield. "Why the Chimes 

Rang," Raymond M. Alden. 
The Great Lawgiver. "Old Stories of the East," James 

Baldwin. 
The Idol Breaker. "Old Stories of the East," James 

Baldwin. 

Humorous. 

The Cat That Walked by Himself. "Just So Stories," 
Eudyard Kipling. 

Brother Terrapin's Fiddle-String. "Little Mr. Thimble- 
finger," Joel Chandler Harris. 

The Witch of the Well. "Little Mr. Thimblefinger, " 
Joel Chandler Harris, 



STORIES FOR TELLING 283 

Grade V 

Fairy Tales and Folk Stories. 

HoAV the Moon Became Beautiful. ' ' Chinese Fables and 

Folk Stories," Davis and CJiow-Leung. 
Woo Sing and the Mirror. "Chinese Fables and Folk 

Stories," Davis and CJiow-Leung. 
A Lesson from Confucius. "Chinese Fables and Folk 

Stories," Davis and CJiow-Leung. 
The Boastful Bamboo. "Japanese Folk Stories and 

Fairy Tales," Mary F. Nixon-Roulet. 
The Choice of the Princess. "Japanese Folk and Fairy 

Tales," Mary F. Nixon-Boulet. 
The Sea Maiden. "Celtic Fairy Tales," Joseph Jacobs. 
A Legend of Knockmany. ' ' Celtic Fairy Tales, ' ' Joseph 

Jacobs. 
Story of Shahrian and Sheherazade. ' ' Arabian Nights, ' ' 

arranged by Frances J. Olcott. 
Story of the Magic Horse. ' ' Arabian Nights, ' ' arranged 

by Frances J. Olcott. 
Story of the City of Brass. ' ' Arabian Nights, ' ' arranged 

by Frances J. Olcott. 
Story of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. "Arabian 

Nights," arranged by Frances J. Olcott. 
The Boy who Could Not Tell a Lie. Storytellers' Mag- 
azine, May, 1914. 

Myths and Leg-ends. 

The Story of Beowulf. ''Some Great Stories and How 

to Tell Them," Richard T. Wyche. 
The Old Man who Brought Withered Trees to Life. 

"Story Telling, What to Tell and How to Tell It," 

Edna Lyman. 



284 STOEY-TELLING 

Robin and the Merry Little Old Woman. ' ' Robin Hood 

— His Book, ' ' Eva March Tappan. 
Robin Hood and Little John. ' ' Robin Hood — His Book, ' ' 

Eva March Tappan. 
Robin Hood and the Golden Arrow. ' ' Robin Hood — His 

Book," Eva March Tappan. 
Robin Hood and Sir Gruy of Gishorne. "Robin Hood — 

His Book," Eva March Tappan. 
Robin's Fast Day. "Robin Hood — His Book," Eva 

March Tappan. 
Robin Meets His Match. "Robin Hood— His Book," 

Eva March Tappan. 
Robin and the Monk. "Robin Hood — His Book," Eva 

March Tappan. 
Robin and Maid Marian. "Robin Hood — His Book," 

Eva March Tappan. 
The Stone Lion. "Story-Telling in Home and School," 

E. N. and G. E. Partridge. 
The Face of the Great Manitou in the Rock. ' ' Wigwam 

Stories, ' ' 3Iary Catherine Judd. 
Weenk the Sleep-Bringer. "Wigwam Stories," Mary 

Catherine Judd. 
Legend of Niagara Falls. "Wigwam Stories," Mary 

Catherine Judd. 

Myths and Legends. 

Iktomi and the Ducks. ' ' Old Indian Legends, ' ' Zitkala- 

Sa. 
Iktomi and the Coyote. ' ' Old Indian Legends, ' ' Zitkala- 

Sa. 
The Tree Bound. ' ' Old Indian Legends, ' ' Zitkala-Sa. 
Shooting of the Red Eagle. "Old Indian Legends," 

Zitkala-Sa, 



STORIES FOR TELLING 285 

Iktomi and the Turtle. * ' Old Indian Legends, ' ' Zitkala- 

Sa. 
Manstin, the Rabbit. ' ' Old Indian Legends, ' ' Zitkala-Sa. 

Hero Stories. 

' ' William Tell, ' ' George P. Upton. 
The Festival at the Meadow. 
Tell's Home in Biirglen. 
Baumgarten's Escape. 
Hifeli and the Vulture. 
Stauffacher and His Heroic Wife. 
A Blow for Freedom. 
In Gessler's Castle. 
The Conference at Fiirst's House. 
The Fight with the Vultures. 
The Compact on the Rlitli Meadow. 
The Shot at the Apple. 
Death of the Tyrant. 
Freedom's New Year. 

Historical Stories. 

The Story of a Paper Cutter. Storytellers' Magazine, 

October, 1913. 
*' The Last Lesson, " Alphonse Daudet. Adapted in Sara 

Cone Bryant's "How to Tell Stories to Children." 
"Florence Nightingale," Laura E. Bicliards. 
"Good Stories for Great Holidays," Frances J. Olcott. 

Betsy Ross and the Flag. 

The Star- Spangled Banner. 

The Little Drummer-Boy. 

Holiday Stories. 

"Good Stories for Great Holidays," Frances J. Olcott. 
A Child 's Dream of a Star. 



286 STORY-TELLING 

The Wooden Shoes of Little Wolff. 
The King of the Cats. 
The First Harvest Home in Plymouth. 
In the Great Walled Country. ' ' Why the Chimes Rang, ' ' 
Raymond M. Alden. 

Nature Stories. 

The Crow Family. ''The Second Book of Birds," Olive 

TJiorne Miller, 
The Lark Family. ''The Second Book of Birds," Olive 

TJiorne Miller. 
A Bear on Fire, "True Bear Stories," Joaquin Miller. 
The Great Grizzly Bear. ' ' True Bear Stories, ' ' Joaquin 

Miller. 
The Bear Monarch. "True Bear Stories," Joaquin 

Miller. 
As a Humorist. "True Bear Stories," Joaquin Miller. 

Biblical and Ethical. 

Stories of the Splendid Sun. "Old Stories of the East," 

James Baldwin. 
The Story of Isaac. Retold by Nellie Margaret Statler. 
Christ in the Temple. Retold by Nellie Margaret Statler, 
Merry Twinkle and the Dwarf. Allen Cross. 
The Hunt for the Beautiful. "Why the Chimes Rang," 

Raymond M. Alden. 
The Palace Made by Music. "Why the Chimes Rang," 

Raymond M. Alden. 

Humorous. 

How Brother Fox Was Too Smart. "Nights with Uncle 

Remus," Joel Chandler Harris. 
The Story of Mr. Coon, "Plantation Pageants," Joel 

Chandler Harris, 



STORIES FOR TELLING 287 

The Diamond Mine. ''Plantation Pageants," Joel 

Chandler Harris. 
The Golden Goose. "Tales of Laughter," Wiggin and 

SmitJi. 

Grade VI 

Fairy Tales and Folk Stories. 

The Princess and the Fox Baby. "Japanese Folk Stories 

and Fairy Tales, ' ' Mary F. Nixon-Boulet. 
The Princess of the Sea. "Japanese Folk Stories and 

Fairy Tales," Mary F. Nixon-Boulet. 
The Boastful Bamboo. "Japanese Folk Stories and 

Fairy Tales, ' ' Mary F. Nixon-Boulet. 
The Sword ed Falcon. "Japanese Folk Stories and Fairy 

Tales," Mary F. Nixon-Boulet. 
The Snail and the Bees. "Chinese Fables and Folk 

Stories," Davis and Chow-Leung." 
The Eagle and the Rice Birds. "Chinese Fables and 

Folk Stories," Davis and Chow-Leung. 
The Language of the Birds. Storytellers' Magazine, 

October, 1914. 
Story of Ali Bey the Persian. Storytellers' Magazine, 

November, 1914. 

Myths and Legends. 

"Glooscap, the Great Chief, and Other Stories," E. N. 

Partridge. 

The Star Wives. 

The Ice King. 

The Forest Maiden. 
' ' Wigwam Stories, ' ' Mary Catherine Judd. 

Wampum, or Indian Money. 

How the Copper Mountain Came to Fall. 

A Rip Van Winkle. 



288 STOEY-TELLING 

The Banyan Deer King. " Story- Telling in Home and 

School," E. N. and G. E. Partridge. 
The Judgment Seat of Vikramaditya. "Story-Telling in 

Home and School," E. N. and G. E. Partridge. 



Grade VI 

The Story of King Arthur, ' ' Winona C. Martin. 

Merlin and His Prophecies. 

How Arthur Won His Kingdom. 

How Arthur Won His Sword, ' ' Exealiber, ' ' His Bride 
and His Round Table. 

The Adventures of Gareth, the Kitchen Knave. 

The Adventures of Geraint. 

The Adventures of Tristram, the Forest Knight. 

The Adventures of Lancelot of the Lake. 

The Dolorous Stroke. 

The Coming of Galahad. 

The Quest of San Greal. 

The Achieving of the San Greal. 

The Passing of Arthur. 
^ Myths Every Child Should Know," Hamilton W. 

Mahie. 

The Pomegranate. 

The Miraculous Pitcher. 

The Giant Builder. 

The Apples of Idun. 

The Star and the Lily. 
■ Legends Every Child Should Know, ' ' Hamilton W. 

Mahie. 

Hiawatha. 

Childe Horn. 



STORIES FOR TELLING 289 

Historical Stories. 

"Good Stories for Great Holidays," Frances J. Olcott. 

Two Hero Stories of the Civil W-ar. 

General Scott and the Stars and Stripes. 

Capture of Fort Tieonderoga. 
"Heroines Every Child Should Know," Hamilton W. 

Mahie and Kate Stephens. 

Joan of Arc. 

Sister Dora. 
"Heroes Every Child Should Know," Hamilton W. 

Mabie. 

George Washington. 

Abraham Lincoln. 
"Story-Telling in Home and School," E. N. and G. E. 

Partridge. 

The Ride of Paul Revere. 

Holiday. 

The Christmas Rose. "Good Stories for Great Hol- 
idays," Frances J. Olcott. 

The Three Kings of Cologne. "Good Stories for Great 
Holidays," Frances J. Olcott. 

The Master of the Harvest. "Parables from Nature," 
Margaret Gatty. 

How Santa Claus Came to Simpson's Bar. "The Luck 
of Roaring Camp," Bret Harte. 

The Boy who Discovered the Spring. ' ' Why the Chimes 
Rang," Raymond M. Alden. 

The Phantom Cats. "Japanese Folk Stories and Fairy 
Tales," Mary F. Nixon-Boulet. 

Nature. 

The Badger and the Birds. "Glooscap, the Great Chief, 
and Other Stories," E. N. Partridge. 



290 ST0KY-TELLIN(^ 

How the Badger Made the Magical Fire. *'Glooscap, 

the Great Chief, and Other Stories," E. N. Partridge. 
''Wild Animals at Home," Ernest Thompson Seton. 

The Cute Coyote. 

Ghosts of the Campfire. 

Sneak Cats, Big and Small. 

Bears of High and Low Degree. 

Biblical and Ethical. 

David and Jonathan. Retold by Nellie Margaret Statler. 

Seek and Ye Shall Find. Storytellers' Magazine, Sep- 
tember, 1913. 

The Happy Prince. "The Happy Prince and Other 
Fairy Tales," Oscar Wilde. 

The Selfish Giant. ''The Happy Prince and Other 
Fairy Tales," Oscar Wilde. 

The Minstrel 's Song. ' ' Mother Stories, ' ' Maud Lindsay. 

Giant Energy and Fairy Skill. ' ' Mother Stories, ' ' Maud 
Lindsay. 

The Wedding Guests. "The Golden Windows," Laura 
E. RicJiards. 

Humorous. 

Miss Cow Falls a Victim to Mr. Eabbit. ' ' Uncle Remus, 
His Songs and His Sayings, ' ' Joel Chandler Harris. 

Old Mr. Rabbit, He 's a Good Fisherman. ' ' Uncle Remus, 
His Songs and His Sayings, ' ' Joel Chandler Harris, 

The Taileypo. Storytellers' Magazine, June, 1913. 

Grade VII 

Fairy Tales and Folk Stories. 

The Angel's Robe, "Japanese Folk Stories and Fairy 
Tales, ' ' Mary Nixon-Roulet. 



Stories for telling 291 

"Chinese Fables and Folk Stories," Davis and Chow- 
Leung. 

A Chinese Prodigal Son, 

The Fa-Nien-Ts'ing and the Mon-Tien-Sing. 
The Silly Son. "Glooscap, the Great Chief, and Other 

Stories, ' ' E. N. Partridge. 
The Magical Belt. "Glooseap, the Great Chief, and 

Other Stories," E. N. Partridge. 
The Basket Woman. "The Basket Woman," Mary 

Austi7i. 
The Merry-Go-Round. "The Basket Woman," Mary 

Austin. 

Myths and Leg-ends. 

"Glooscap, the Great Chief, and Other Stories." 

How Glooseap Found the Summer. 

How Glooseap Conquered His Enemies. 

The Eeturn of Glooseap. 

How Glooseap Transformed the Indian. 

How Glooseap Defeated the Sorcerers. 

How Glooseap Was Conquered by Wasis. 

How the Indians Sought the Great Chief, 
The Story of Saint Christopher, BicJiard T. Wyche. 
' ' In God 's Garden, ' ' A^ny Steedman. 

Saint Martin. 

Saint Ursula. 

Saint Francis of Assisi. 

Saint Nicholas. 
"Myths Every Child Should Know," Hamilton W. 

Mabie. 

The Three Golden Apples. 

The Dragon's Teeth. 

The Paradise of Children. 



292 STOEY-TELLING 

Historical. 

"Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata," Catlierine Turner 

Bryce. 
"Stories of G-reat Musicians," Scohey and Home. 

John Sebastian Bach. 

Ludwig Van Beethoven. 

Felix Mendelssohn. 

Richard Wagner. 
A Rose from Homer's Grave. Storytellers' Magazine, 

July, 1913. 
Endymion. Storytellers' Magazine, July, 1913. 
Story of England's First Poet. Storytellers' Magazine, 

July, 1913. 
Grace Darling. ' ' Heroines Every Child Should Know, ' ' 

H, W. Mabie and Kate Stephens. 
Robert Bruce. "Heroes Every Child Should Know," 

H. W. Malie. 
Robert E. Lee. "Heroes Every Child Should Know," 

H. W. Mabie. 
Storytellers' Magazine, December, 1913. 

Blind Bartimaeus. 

Christmas Eve with the Seven Poor Travelers. 
' ' Christ Legends, ' ' Selma Lagerlof. 

The Holy Night. 

The Wise Men's Well. 

Robin Redbreast. 

Our Lord and Saint Peter. 

The Horn of Plenty. 
The Christmas Thorn of Glastonbury. "Good Stories 

for Great Holidays." Frances J. Olcott. 
The Handful of Clay. "The Blue Flower," Henry Van 

DyTce. 
The Brook in the King's Garden. "Why the Chimes 

Rang," Raymond M. Alden. 



STORIES FOR TELLING 293 

Nature Stories. 

' ' Just So Stories, ' ' Budyard Kipling. 

How the Leopard Got His Spots. 

The Cat that Walked by Himself. 
''The Jungle Book," Rudyard Kipling. 

Mowgli's Brothers. 

Kaa's Hunting. 

Eilki Tikld Tavi. 
"The Second Jungle Book," Budyard Kipling. 

How Fear Came. 

Letting in the Jungle. 

Red Dog. 

The Spring Running. 
"Wild Life on the Rockies," Enos A. Mills. 

The Story of a Thousand Year Pine. 

The Wilds Without Firearms. 

Bob and Some Other Birds. 
"In the Beaver World," Enos A. Mills. 

Our Friend the Beaver. 

Biblical and Ethical. 

The Grreat Teacher. "Some Great Stories and How to 
Tell Them," Bichard T. WycJie. 

Queen Esther and the Feast of Purim. Adapted by 
Nellie Margaret Statler. 

The Story of Ruth and Naomi. Adapted by Nellie Mar- 
garet Statler. 

Where Love Is, There God Is Also. Count Tolstoy, 

The Great Stone Face. ' ' For the Story Teller, ' ' Carolyn 
S. Bailey. 

The Star Child. "The Happy Prince and Other Fairy 
Tales," Oscar Wilde. 

* ' The Golden Windows, ' ' Laura E, Bichards. 
From a Far Country. 



294 STORY-TELLIKG 

The Prominent Man. 
The Wheat Field. 

Humorous. 

"Wee Willie Winkie," Rudyard Kipling. 

"Uncle Remus and His Friends," Joel CJiandler Harris. 

Why the Hawk Catches Chickens. 

Where the Hurrycane Comes From. 

Why the Moon's Face Is Smutty. 

Uncle Remus at the Telephone. 

Grade VIII 
Fairy Tales. 

"The Children's Bluebird," Madame Maurice Maeter- 
linck. 
"Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens," James Barrie. 
' ' The King of the Golden River, ' ' JoJin Buskin. 

Myths and Leg-ends. 

' ' The Vision of Sir Launf al, ' ' James Russell Lowell. 
The Search for the Grail, "Idylls of the King," 

Henry W. Longfellow. 
"Stories of Wagner Operas, Told for the Children," 

ElizahetJi M. WJieelock. 

Parsifal. 

Lohengrin. 

The Mastersingers. 

The Rhinegold. 

The Walkyries. 

Siegfried. 

The Dusk of the Gods. 

The Flying Dutchman. 
"Legends Every Child Should Know," Hamilton W. 

Mahie. 

Rustem and Sohrab. 



STORIES FOR TELLING 295 

The Wandering Jew. 

Rip Van Winkle. 

The Gray Champion. 

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. 

Historical. 

"The Wonder Workers," Mary H. Wade. 

The Flower Magician — Burbank. 

The Magician of Touch — Helen Keller. 

The Magician of Sound — Edison. 

The Magician of Friendship — Jane Addams. 

The Magician of Love — Grenfell. 
''Bamboo, Tales of the Orient-Born," Lyon Sharman. 

A Little Daughter of the Gospel. 

The Home-Made Flag. 

Progress and Prodigy. 

White Pants. 

Orient-Born. 

Holiday Stories. 

' ' The Blue Flower, ' ' Henry Van Dyke. 

The Other Wise Man. 

The Lost Word. 

The Mansion. 
*'Good Stories for Great Holidays, " i^rances /. Olcott. 

The Phantom Knight of the Vandal Camp. 

The Christmas Rose. 
"The Perfect Tribute," 3Iary SMpman Andrews. 
** Christ Legends," Selma Lagerlof. 

The Emperor's Vision. 

The Flight Into Egypt. 

In the Temple. 

Saint Veronica 's Kerchief. 

The Sacred Flame. 
"A Christmas Carol," Charles Dickens, 



296 STOEY-TELLING 

Nature Stories. 

' ' In the Beaver World, ' ' Enos A. Mills. 

The Beaver Past and Present. 

The Beaver Dam. 

The Primitive House. 

Beaver Pioneers. 

The Original Conservationist. 
"Wild Life on the Rockies," Enos A. Mills. 

A Watcher on the Heights. 

Climbing Long's Peak. 

Kinnikinick. 

Biblical and Ethical. 

The Prodigal Son. Adapted by Nellie Margaret Statler. 
Helping the Master, Evelyn Harrison. 
The Vision of Anton the Clockmaker, Walter A. Dyer. 
The Closing Door. ' ' Mother Stories, ' ' Maud Lindsay. 
The Choice of Hercnles. "Good Stories for Great Hol- 
idays," Frances J. Olcott. 

Humorous. 

How the Whale Got His Throat. "Just So Stories," 

Budyard Kipling. 
The Sing- Song of Old Man Kangaroo. ' ' Just So Stories, ' ' 

Rudyard Kipling. 
Brother Bear and the Honey Orchard. "Uncle Remus 

and His Friends, ' ' Joel CJiandler Harris. 
How Mr. Rabbit Lost His Fine Bushy Tail. "Uncle 

Remus, His Songs and His Sayings," Joel CJiandler 

Harris, 



INDEX 



Alden, Raymond M., 61, 62. 

Alsace-Lorraine, 16. 

Angelo, Michael, 175, 176, 177. 

Aphrodite, 55. 

Apollo, 55, 178. 

Apron String, The, 62. 

Arachne, 54. 

Asgard, 55. 

Aurora, 178. 

Balder, 55. 

Barber, Grace Edson, 59. 

Barrie, Sir James, 51. 

Beowulf, 58. 

Blackmore, 102. 

Blue Bird, The, 51, 52. 

Boy Scouts, 195. 

Bonheur, Rosa, 181. 

Brer Rabbit, 17, 38. 

Breton, 181. 

Bryant, Sara Cone, 16. 

Bryce, Catherine Twiner, 137. 



Campfire Girls, 195. 
Christ, among the Doctors, 

Life Cycle of, 66. 

Picture Study of, 175. 
Christmas, 19. 
Cid, 58. 

Cinderella, 39, 51. 
Closing Door, The, 62, 255. 
Columbus, 59. 
Corot, 181, 183. 
Correggio, 175, 178, 185. 
Cross, Allen, 153, 239. 



186. 



David Copperfield, 18, 102. 
Da Vinci, Leonardo, 175 176 

185. 
Daudet, Alphonse, 16. 
Dickens, 18, 102. 
Dyer, Walter A., 62, 249. 

Easter, 19. 

Field, Walter Taylor, 20. 
Frithiof, 58. 
Frost Giants, 55. 

Galahad, Sir, 39. 
Geography, 16. 
Gingerbread Boy, The, 11. 
Golden Windows, 62. 
Grail, Picture Study of, 201-207. 
Great Stone Face, The, 41. 
Greeks, 54, 55. 

Handful of Clay, A, 19, 37. 
Happy Prince, The, 15. 
Harris, Joel Chandler, 18. 
Harrison, Eveleen, 94. 
Hoffman, 186, 187. 
How to Show Pictures to Chil- 
dren, 185. 
Hunt for the Beautiful, The, 62. 
Hurll, Estelle, 185. 

Indian, Myths of, 56, 57. 
King Arthur, 58, 59, 201. 



297 



298 



INDEX 



Lagerlof, Selma, 128. 

Landseer, 180, 181, 182. 

Last Lesson, The, 16. 

Law, Scout, 196; Campfire, 198. 

Lindsay, Maud, 62, 255. 

Lohengrin, 39, 59. 

Loki, 55. 

Lorna Doone, 102. 

Madonnas, 176, 177. 
Maeterlinck, 51, 52. 
Merry Twinkle and the Dwarf, 

108. 
Miller, Joaquin, 44. 
Millet, 181, 183, 186. 
Moffat, Ida M., 25. 
Moses, 63, 64. 
Mother Stories, 62; More 

Mother Stories, 62. 
Murillo, 178, 179, 186. 

Newton, Isaac, and the Apple, 

16. 
Nightingale and the Rose, The, 

57. 
Nightingale, Florence, 61. 
Norse Myths, 55. 

Odin, 55. 

Old Woman and Her Pig, The, 
11. 

Palace Raised by Music, The, 

6L 
Parkman, Francis, 60. 
Parsifal, 55. 
Peter, 68. 
Peter Pan, 41, 51. 
Phelps, Elizabeth Stuart, 163. 
Pickthall, Marjorie L. C, 145. 
Pig Brother, The, 14. 



Piggy Pennington, 18. 
Potter, Paul, 180. 
Primer, New England, 12. 
Princess and the Vagabone, 

The, 36. 
Prominent Man, The, 14, 62. 

Raphael, 175, 176, 177, 185. 
Rembrandt, 180, 186. 
Reni, Guido, 115, 178, 185. 
Reynolds, 180, 186. 
Richards, Laura E., 14, 37, 61, 

62. 
Robin Hood, 58. 
Roland, 58. 
Rubens, 179, 185. 
Rustum, 58. 

Sawyer, Ruth, 36. 

Scott, 102. 

Scudder, Horace, 28. 

Selfish Giant, 51, 258. 

Sharman, Lyon, 157. 

Siegfried, 58, 59. 

Spears, Raymond S., 233. 

Star Child, The, 51. 

Statler, Nellie Margaret, 69, 71, 

73, 76, 79, 82, 85, 91, 98, 

186. 
Steedman, Amy, 116, 122. 
Stevenson, 18, 102. 
Stockton, Frank R., 219. 

Tell, William, 58. 

Thackeray, 18. 

Thor, 55. 

Titian, 175, 177, 178, 185. 

Tolstoy, Count Lyof N., 15, 207. 

Treasure Island, 18. 

Troyon, 181, 182. 

Turner, 180, 186. 

Twain, Mark, 17. 



INDEX 



299 



Uncle Remus, 17, 36, 37, 38. 

Valasquez, 178, 179, 186. 

Van Dyck, Anthony, 180, 183, 
186. 

Van Dyke, 19, 37. 

Verrocchio, 175. 

Vision of Anton the Clock- 
Maker, The, 62, 107, 249. 

Wade, Mary H., 60. 



Wagner Opera Stories, 59. 

Watt, James, and the Giant un- 
der the Teakettle Lid, 16. 

Where Love Is, There God Is 
Also, 15, 207. 

Why the Chimes Rang, 60. 

Why the Robin Has a Red 
Breast, 56. 

Wilde, Oscar, 15, 51, 57, 258. 

Wonder Workers, 60. 

Wyche, Richard Thomas, 188. 



Live Books for Live Teachers 

Country Life and the Country School 

Mabel Carney, Supervisor Normal Training Schools of Minne- 
sota. 112 Illustrations, 408 pp $1.32 

The book gives a true portrayal of existing rural condi- 
tions; presents a definite, constructive program for im- 
provement; and strikes a clear note of inspiration for 
organized endeavor. 

A rural teacher or supervisor could better afford to do 
without gloves than without this book, and every country 
preacher and rural library should have a copy. 

Eng-lish in the Country School 

Walter Barnes, State Normal School, Fairmount, W. Va. 

286 pp :$1.25 

While written especially for the country teacher, this 
book is an excellent guide and help to any elementary 
school teacher in planning the work and giving instruction 
in all the English branches, — Reading, Literature, Spelling, 
Language, Grammar, Composition. 

Readtag- in Public Schools 

Thomas H. Briggs, Columbia University, New York, and Lotus 

D. COFFMAN, University of Minnesota. 332 pp $1.32 

The book presents in an interesting, definite, helpful 
way, the best present-day views on the whole subject of 
teaching children to read, and to understand and appre- 
ciate what they read. It is especially valuable for teachers' 
reading courses and for class use in normal and training 
schools. 

How to Teach Arithmetic 

J. C. Brown, S. N. S., St. Cloud, Minn., and L. D, Coffman, Uni- 
versity of Minnesota. 373 pp $1.32 

The aim has been to present in a clear and definite way 
the principles and devices with which efficient teachers of 
Arithmetic should be familiar. 

The selection and arrangement of the material shows 
sound pedagogical principles ; there is an abundance of 
illustrative material ; the suggestions are concrete ; every 
important topic is treated ; and the book exploits no partic- 
ular theory, method or text-book. 

CHICAGO NEW YORK 

ROW, PETERSON AND COMPANY 



Delightful Books for Little Folks 

Ned and Nan in Holland 

Emma G. Olmstead and Emma B. Grant. About 75 delightful 
illustrations in three colors. Suitable for grade 1 or 2. 
128 pp $0.40 

This is a very simple, vivacious stoiy of a visit by two 
American children to their cousins in Holland. The reader 
cannot fail to live this interesting trip with the children. 

East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon 

GuDEUN TH0R>rE-TH0MSEN, formerly at the University of Chi- 
cago. Illustrated with 10 full-page four-color pictures by Fred- 
erick Richardson. 218 pp $0.50 

It is the aim of this little book to bring together only 
the very be:t from the rich stories of Norwegian folk-lore ; 
to preserve the original folk-lore language ; and to retain 
the conversational style of the teller of tales; so that the 
sympathetic young reader may, in greater or less degree, 
be translated into the atmosphere of the old-time story- 
hour. The book should be read in advanced second or in 
third grade. 

The Birch and the Star and Other Stories 

GuDRUN Thorne-Thomsen". Six full page illustrations in 3 
colors, by F. V. Poole. For grade 2 or 3. 114 pp $0.40 

This is a companion book to the author's "East o' the 
Sun and West o' the Moon," published four years ago, 
which has proved so popular. The stories have a charming 
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telling to the children, or for study as literature. 

The Book of the Beastie 

Ruth Ewing and Josephine Teott. Suitable for grades 3 and 
4. 254 pp., more than 50 illustrations from photographs. 
School Edition $0.50 

This is a collection of more than 100 delightfully inter- 
esting stories and poems written or selected with a view to 
inspiring in children a friendly feeling toward all forms 
of lower animal life. There is no moralizing, but in imagi- 
nation the reader lives kindness to animals. 

CHICAGO NEW YORK 

ROW, PETERSON AND COMPANY 



The Growth of a Teacher Is as the 

Growth of Her Library- 
Evolution of the Teacher 

F. B. Pearson, State Superintendent of Public Instruction, 

Columbus, Ohio. 216 pp $1-25 

This volume interprets some of the basic principles of 
pedagogy in terms of everyday schoolroom experience. It 
is particularly rich in concrete illustration gleaned from 
schools of all grades. 

Index to Short Stories 

Grace E. Salisbury and Mabee E. Beckwith, State Normal 

School, Whitewater, Wis. 118 pp $0.50 

A convenient' guide to stories for the use of teachers, 
containing a list of 2,500 five-minute stories indexed under 
some 600 heads — such as friendship, trutJi, truancy, — taken 
from 100 books commonly found in libraries. 

The Personality of the Teacher 

Charles McKenny, President, Normal College, Ypsilanti, Mich. 

192 pp $1.00 

The author shows what qualities go to make up a desir- 
able personality and how to develop those qualities. The 
book cannot fail to prove a source of inspiration and 
strength. 

Interpretation of the Printed Paife 

Prof. S. H. Clark, University of Chicago. 317 pp ... .$1.25 

Just as Professor Clark's earlier book on teaching read- 
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so in his newest work is to be found what we confidently 
believe will become the authoritative text-book on under- 
standing, appreciation, and vocal expression of literature. 

Methods of T^ching 

W. W. Charters, Dean of Teachers' College, University of Mis- 
souri. Revised and Enlarged. 444 pp $1.32 

Among the first to try to work out general methods of 
teaching in terms of the function of subject matter, Dr. 
Charters has been more consistent and has elaborated the 
point of view more fully and more clearly than any other 
writer. It is a most stimulating and informing book. 
CHICAGO NEW YORK 

EOW, PETERSON AND COMPANY 



